#small acts of resistance and mercy

[tonycries]

Government Hooker - T.F.

Synopsis. With the fame and glory of being an international popstar comes the inevitable threat of an overzealous stalker. You just didn’t think that it would also come with a very sexy, buff bodyguard behind your every move.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, popstar! reader, bodyguard! Toji, unprotected, brat-taming, spanking, choking, rough oral (male + female receiving), slight enemies-to-lovers, jealousy (Toji’s side), daddy kink, semi-public sex, manager! Nanami, creampie, power dynamics, dirty talk, stalking threats, TW. knife (brief), swearing.

Word count. 10.8k

A/N.  WHEWWWWWWWWW need some buff bodyguard Toji in my life. Slightly inspired by The Bodyguard. Set in the Brooklyn Babyverse.

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

Pop Princess’ World Tour in Jeopardy After Stalking Threats

Dark Times for Pop Royalty: Will She Return for This Year’s Grammy Performance?

Is It Over For The International Sensation?

“Nanami, for the millionth time, do I look like I need a babysitter?” you squint at the headlines flashing across your phone screen, resisting the urge to fling it at the nearest wall. 

Sitting right in the middle of your whirlwind dressing room, you breathe in the heady air, thick with hairspray and anticipation for the upcoming shoot. Normally, you’d preen at the stylists swarming around you - but right now, their fussing only makes it all the more difficult to drive your manager dangerously close to an aneurysm.

As expected, Nanami drones out the same rehearsed response you’ve memorized word-for-word at this point. “My apologies, but with the severity of these threats, we can’t-”

“Afford to take any chances, I know I know.” Still, heart sinking, you scoff, “I understand, but 24/7 surveillance is insane. Can’t I have any-”

Bang!

To your chagrin - and perhaps Nanami’s mercy - the door flies open with a force that rattles its hinges. 

As the bustling activity in the dressing room freezes, your eyes immediately snap to the hulking figure at the door. Expression steely and vigilant, he strides in with a presence that demands attention. You can’t help but raise a brow at his audacity - and the unreal rippling of his muscles beneath that skin-tight t-shirt. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but that blue-haired freak Mojito at the front desk told me to come here.” a low rumble sweeps the room. 

Ah, this must be the one. Gesturing your stylists away, you square your shoulders - ready for a fight. “And who might you be”

“Name’s Fushiguro Toji, your new ‘babysitter’, princess.” he declares, voice gruff and unwavering over Nanami’s tired hum of “Bodyguard, he means bodyguard”. 

You narrow your eyes, studying the pure disinterest on his face. Great, just what you needed - you didn’t claw your way to the top to be scared and controlled by some loser stalker. Tilting your head defiantly, “Hmm, you don’t look like much of a bodyguard.”

Toji’s lips twitch into a sardonic smirk, gaze meeting yours with a hint of challenge, “Mhm, and you don’t act like much of a princess.”

You could almost hear the record screech to a halt. Everyone holding their breath, eyes locked on you as an agonizing beat of silence passes, half the room on the verge of fainting.

One. Two.

A startled laugh bursts from your lips. Shattering the tension in that dressing room as swiftly as the mirror in your stylist’s hand would’ve had you remained quiet a second longer. 

The audacity of this man. No one’s ever spoken to you like that before. 

Toji’s grin widens at your unexpected reaction, that sinful little scar on his lips stretching in amusement. Some small, strange part of him satisfied at passing your invisible test.

“Well, look at that, didn’t expect ya to have a sense of humor.” he comments, tone positively dripping with sarcasm, as if toying with you.

Plastering on that painfully saccharine sweet smile usually saved for nosy interviewers, you mockingly bat your lashes. “And I didn’t expect to have a babysitter breathing down my neck.” 

“Oh don’t expect me to babysit, princess. I don’t get paid nearly enough for that. According to that hardass manager of yours, my job is to keep you safe. Whether you like it or not.” 

With a dismissive wave of your hand, you turn back to your make-up artist, clearly done with this tedious conversation. “We’ll see how long that lasts. I have a knack for losing unwanted company.”

And if there’s one thing you’ve come to learn with Toji Fushiguro, it’s that you do not have a knack for losing unwanted company. Especially not him. 

Wherever you went, Toji was there first - it didn’t matter how fast you escaped, or how many hats and masks you put on. He was everywhere.

He was there when you slipped away to swap sunglasses with a passing stranger, convinced you’d outsmarted your looming bodyguard. But your triumphant laugh caught in your throat as you heard that familiar chuckle behind you - whirling around to find him sporting your ill-fitting shades with an amused glint in his eyes.

He was there during a chaotic fashion show, where you blended seamlessly amongst the flurry backstage, hoping to escape Toji’s watchful gaze. Heart pounding, making it all the way to the elevator. You’d barely let out a breath of relief before large hands intercept the closing doors. Towering figure stepping inside with a knowing grin, “Going somewhere, princess?”

Hell, he was even there when you hatched a plan to ditch him on the tarmac of the bustling airport. Making a dash for your private plane, and settling into your plush seat with smug satisfaction. Ah, at least you’ll have a few hours of peace until Tokyo without-

“Damn, first class is nice. Must be nice to be pretty and rich.” a low whistle causes you to groan inwardly (and outwardly).

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” you mutter under your breath, at the man seated right beside you. At this point, you half expected him to be keeping guard outside as you shower.

Toji was always there. Steadfast as ever, firm chest always blocking whatever escape plan you’ve concocted. In all your years in the spotlight, you’ve never felt so frustrated. The dawning realization that there was no escape matching your slowly slipping sanity as you kick off the first stop of your world tour - Tokyo.

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

It’s in Tokyo that everything changes. 

Electricity crackling in the air, deafening roars of your name in your ears - you stand center stage. This was where you belonged - where you felt alive. 

Pouring your soul into your words, stage lights dance across your skin, as frantic as the adrenaline in your veins. The crowd before you was a living, breathing entity, swept away with energy and excitement.

The music swells to a crescendo as your voice carries across the arena, limelight following you spellbound.

In the intoxicating performance, you don’t notice a pair of widened green eyes doing the same, goosebumps rising along his skin. Gaze fixed on you with an intensity that rivaled the spotlight itself. A silent reverie. 

As the final notes of your song echoed through the arena you felt a rush of euphoria wash over you. Lights dimming, you draw a long breath, savoring the crackling energy onstage. A high that left you craving for more.

With a grateful smile, you bow deeply, screams and applause reverberating in your ears like thunder. 

The cheers continue to ring in your ears as you’re whisked away, backstage buzzing with excitement and anticipation over the special guests for the VIP event. Enveloped by your team, you navigate through the labyrinthine corridors of the arena.  

You catch Toji’s eye from where he flanked your right, your brow raising ever-so-slightly as if silently asking, “C’mon, didn’t I kill it out there?” 

But before you can decipher the fleeting expression on his face, the moment is shattered by a sudden commotion up front. 

“Hey, over here! Is it true there's a stalker after you? Is it to boost album sales?”

“Can you confirm the rumors that you're cozying up with Satoru from Tokyo Special Grades? The fans want answers!”

“Hey! How do you respond to critics who call you a has-been? Come on, speak up!”

You’re barely given a second to breathe before the paparazzi descend upon you like vultures. Bodies jostling urgently as rapidfire questions and incessant flashes make you see stars behind your eyes. 

Trying to block out the swarm of questions, you close your eyes amidst the dizzying chaos, trying to find some semblance of stability.

And stability finds its way in the strong arm that wraps protectively around you, pressing you close against a sculpted chest.

Toji.

“Don’ worry, princess, I’ll get you outta here.” hot breath brushing against your ear, sending shivers creeping down your spine. 

Pulled impossible close to his muscled frame, his steady heartbeat grounds you - while yours stutters as Toji’s voice cuts through the clamor like a knife. “Back off, vultures. Show some respect or I’ll make sure ya regret it.” 

Steely gaze almost provoking - as if anyone would dare challenge the imposing, almost frightening presence in the middle of the room. The paparazzi, momentarily stunned, falter in their pursuit, allowing Toji to carve a path through the chaos.

Hands still tight around you, as you’re hastily escorted away from the chaos, you steal a glance at Toji’s profile, illuminated by the harsh flashes of the cameras. Finding some intrusive little part of you that thrills at the raw intensity, cheeks flaring in response.

He’s so warm. 

You could almost cry as those gaudy VIP doors swing open, swiftly ushering you to safety. They slam shut, sealing off the cacophony outside. In the soft lounge music wafting through the air, you’re left with the nagging awareness of Toji’s body heated against yours.

Embarrassment floods through you like a tidal wave as you register the way you’re still clinging on to him. Abruptly pushing away, you take a larger step back than was probably appropriate. 

In the dimly lit room, you couldn’t make out exactly what was twinkling in Toji’s eyes as they flicker to you. But what you could see was that amused grin curling his lips as you uncharacteristically stumble over your words, “Thank you- Uh, for the way I-”

“Princess~!” Words choke in your throat as a flash of white and blue barrels into you, sending you reeling backward. Playful laughter ringing through the air. 

“S-Satoru?” you stammer, caught off guard. Before you’ve fully recovered, he’s pulling you into a bruising hug, nearly knocking you off your feet. 

“Hey there, gorgeous,” Satoru purrs, voice velvety as he leans in. “You absolutely killed it out there tonight.”

“Oh my gosh, Satoru! I haven’t seen you in forever.” A laugh escapes your lips, though the lingering warmth from Toji’s proximity still prickles at the edges of your consciousness. “What are you even doing here?”

Satoru chuckles, gaze lingering on you, “Couldn’t miss the biggest concert in Tokyo since ours, duh.” His energy was infectious, and you find yourself smiling along. “Thank you Satoru.” 

As Satoru continues to chatter animatedly about the concert, you distinctly realize that Toji has slipped into the background. Where was he? You find your eyes darting around the room in search of his familiar presence, slowly noticing the lack of Satoru’s bandmates in the process.

Your curiosity piqued, you couldn’t resist teasing him. “So, where are the rest of Tokyo Special Grades? I thought you guys were inseparable”

He shrugs it off casually, leaning down to whisper conspiratorially “Rehearsal. Don’t let ‘em know I’m here.”

As you titter at his antics, he gives you a playful nudge, eyes twinkling with mischief. “So…since the band’s away, how about you and me grab a drink together?.”

Something heavy pools in your stomach as those familiar words ring in your ears, hanging in the air - you knew all too well what he meant. 

Skin still tingling with the lingering heat of Toji’s touch, your eyes sweep the room for him one last time. Some strange part of your heart pangs when you find that those piercing green eyes, always studying you so intently, are nowhere to be found.

“Lead the way, Satoru.”

---

The world was rocking, as were Satoru’s fingers on you. Softly tracing along your collarbone, touch searing as he pushes you against the wall of your hotel room. 

Shivers run down your spine, all the way to your heated core. Breaths mingling, a desperate hunger ignites in the air as your fingers just barely graze against the buttons of his overpriced button-up. 

Tension reaching its peak, fingers hazily fumbling with those tedious buttons-

Bang!

You both startle as the door swings open, breaking the heady atmosphere inside. Dazed, you whirl your head towards the intruder standing at the door - Toji. Seems he had a penchant for dramatic entrances. 

Toji stands in the doorway, his gaze dark and unreadable. Without a word, he strides into the room, narrowed eyes flickering between you and Satoru.

“What the hell is going on here?” Toji’s voice is low and dangerous, cutting through the tense silence hanging in the air.

Satoru tries to play it cool, though you catch his easy smirk faltering slightly, “Oh? The bodyguard, right? What brings you here, my man?”

Ignoring the question - and Satoru altogether - Toji turns to you, eyes never leaving yours. “24/7 means 24/7. As your bodyguard, I can’t permit some stranger to get too close.” he asserts.

Mind still burning with lust, you feel red-hot irritation simmering beneath your skin. Fists clenching at the tone that leaves no room for argument. 

“I don’t recall signing up for a warden.” you snap, sharp and defiant. 

Toji’s expression remains impassive, but there’s a glint of determination in his eyes. “I’m not here to argue, princess. My job here is just to keep you safe, princess.” 

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief - this was ridiculous. “Uh, newsflash, Toji. I can take care of myself just fine.”

“You little brat-”

Before the argument can escalate further, Satoru cuts in, his voice uncharacteristically calm and conciliatory. “Hey, it's okay, man. I’ll just leave,” he says, stepping away from you and raising his hands in surrender.

You shoot Satoru a look of frustration, torn between the desire for independence and for someone to fucking make you cum, and the unsettling feeling of vulnerability that Toji’s presence somehow seems to evoke. As the door slams shut - not before a playful hum of “Call me, princess~!” - a deafening silence envelopes the room. 

The room that now feels too small. Too hot. Thighs still quivering in anticipation.

Shit. 

Mind racing, you don’t catch the way Toji’s gaze softens slightly, a hint of regret flickering in his eyes. “I’m sorry, princess. But I can’t take any chances, I’m here to protect you.” 

“Enough with this ‘princess’ crap.” Running a hand through your hair, you let out an exasperated sigh, trying desperately to quell the storm of emotions swirling uncomfortably inside you. “And protect me from what? A harmless hookup?”

“From whoever is sending those threats,” Toji growls. “Until we catch them, you’re not allowed to be alone with anyone.”

Frustration reaching a boiling point, you storm up to him. “Fine, then you can stay here and watch me 25/8 for all I care. But, what are you going to do about that?” each word punctuated by a hard poke to his sculpted chest, laced with defiance - but also something raw and primal.

Green eyes darkening with intensity, you watch his jaw clench in restraint. He takes a step impossibly close, the air crackling with something you couldn’t name.

“You don’t get to play games with me, princess,” he warns, his voice low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

But - as always - you refuse to back down. Heart racing, mind hazy, you stand close enough that you’re toe to toe with him. A hand reaching out to grasp his large ones, manicured nails digging into the heated skin. In one, fluid motion, you place his hand in between your skirt, heated core soaking through your thin panties. 

“I’m not playing games, Toji.”

Before you can react, your back hits the wall. Surface cool on your heated skin. A brick-hard body is against yours, you could almost sink into him at how close he was pressed. 

Heat rushing to your cheeks, slick gushing to your cunt, your eyes lock with Toji’s darkened ones. He murmurs, words low and making your pussy jump in anticipation, “Didn’t expect you to be so filthy, princess.”

You lean in, lips mere inches away from his, whispering seductively. “Oh you have no idea.”

You didn’t expect those to be the words that make him snap - then again, you didn’t expect him to snap so easily either.

Toji’s eyes widen slightly, his jaw dropping open as he processes your words. He stares at you darkly for a moment, gaze traveling over your flushed cheeks, your devilish grin, and finally settling on your heaving chest.

Toji pins your wrists above your head with one hand, the other roughly tearing your skirt off your waist. Flimsy cloth hitting the carpeted floor. 

“Hey! Those are Dolce and-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence before his lips capture yours. Words catching in your throat as his tongue plunges unforgivingly into your mouth. 

Hands groping and teasing every inch of skin they could find. Kneading your breasts through your shirt, biting down hard on your bottom lip.

A desperate whine that you definitely would’ve been embarrassed about had you been in the right state of mind leaves your lips as something achingly hard grazes your core. Shit, you had an inkling but he was going to split you apart. Mindlessly wondering whether you’ll have to cancel the photoshoot tomorrow. Hips bucking for more more more-

“Patience, princess.” he murmurs, hotly against your lips. Thick fingers slipping beneath your panties - ripping them off. You gasp as the cold air hits your cunt, thighs quivering at the neat fingernail grazing your swollen folds. “You need to be taught a lesson first.”

You’re not in the mood for patience. But whatever retort gets stuck on the tip of your tongue as a long finger circles your throbbing clit. Tight, urgent little circles that inch you closer and closer to insanity. “F-faster-”

“You’ll take what I give, my lil’ slut.”

“I don’t have to listen to you.”

Ah, but alas - thank god for Toji Fushiguro being a merciful man. At least for the moment.

Pressing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your body, dropping to his knees with urgency of a madman. Gaze fiery fiery with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine - you were in for it. 

Licking his lips, tongue catching on that small scar by the corner, he dives nose-deep into your needy pussy. Bed mere meters away, Toji takes you right against the wall. 

His hungry gaze devours you just as greedily as the mouth on your cunt. “Ah! Hah- Oh, Toji!” you gasp, arching into his hurried yet expert tongue. Harsh, purposeful movements that send electric shocks straight to your core. 

“Not Toji, princess.” he murmurs, lips hot against your own. Urgently lapping at your juices, as if a man dying of thirst.

Something hot and sticky coils at your stomach - maybe at the way his tongue was crooking just right to tease your dripping entrance, bullying its way past your swollen folds. Or maybe at the way the realization has your slick beading out of your pulsing pussy.

“D-daddy?” you whimper, almost-experimentally. 

And apparently it was the right answer, as Toji lets out a guttural groan into your snug cunt. Nose catching against your abused clit, rubbing hurried little circles. Tongue stretching out your snug walls, pooling your juices, unforgivingly dipping in and out in and out in and-

Speeding up now, his tongue has you losing your mind in ways you didn’t even know were possible. “Hngh- faster. Fuck me like you want it, daddy.” you whine, hips grinding further into his mouth.. 

And he lets you. In your lust-addled mind you barely have time to think about this strange act of mercy - only thinking of how close you were. So close. So fucking close. Mere moments away from shattering completely. Mind filled with only Toji and his tongue and Toji-

“Didn’t think I’d be so nice to ya, did you, princess?”

Orgasm slipping through your fingers, your crash from euphoria matches that of your heart.

Ah, Toji could cream his pants at the way your face fell so adorably as he pulled away. Delicate strings of spit and slick still connecting him to your slutty pussy. 

“Toji?” you mewl, bruised lips falling into a pretty pout that made him want to throw caution to the find and stuff you full of his cock right now. But no, he had to teach his lil’ princess a thing or two about not getting everything she wants.

“Patience, princess.” With a grin, Toji warns, voice husky and sending shivers down your spine and making you grind your hips against his lips. Before you can whine in disappointment, a sharp smack! cuts through the heady air. The sound hits you before the realization that Toji hit you. 

A sharp slap against your ass, the impact shocking you briefly before arousal takes over. You yelp at the sting, eyes widening in surprise.

“Wha-”

“Count to ten, then I’ll let you cum. You need to learn a thing or two about listening, brat.”

You stare at him defiantly, your heart pounding in your chest. A silent staredown that only makes heat pool more and more desperately at your core. Deafening need, slick dripping down your legs pathetically.

“O-one.” you whisper, voice strained with frustration and barely audible.

He watches you like a predator stalking his prey, eyes never leaving your face. Smack!

His hand connects with your ass again, a low hum of appreciation at the mewl leaving your kiss-bitten lips at the pain and filthy pleasure. Your ass stinging as much as your dripping cunt.

“...two.”

Apparently approving of your obedience, he dives back in with a low growl. Burning his face between your thighs, because fuck oxygen - breathing couldn’t compare to how sweet you were on his tongue.

Lapping up your sensitive folds, scar rough against them, teasing. Edging your climax and your sanity like the merciless bastard he was. Smack! 

“Hah- ah! Two- Oh, jus’ like that-” Broken, raw moans escape your lips as he continues his torture. Ah, he loved this view. The people’s princess, so teary and falling apart because of him.

In the obscenity of it all, thick fingers stuff themselves in your cunt. The lack of preparation makes you squeeze around Toji’s tongue as they pump into your sloppy hole relentlessly. In and out in and out- 

Smack!

“Th-three- hngh-”

Purposefully missing that one spot Toji knew would have you seeing stars. You haven’t earned that yet.

Blood rushes straight to his cock as you throw your head back, letting out a strangled sob. “Daddy, let me cum. Wanna cum on your tongue. Ah-” Oh, you clever minx, knew exactly what made his leaking cock throb with need. For that you get two sharp smacks on each cheek. 

“F-four. Five.” you’re in tears at this point. Delicate little streaks down your cheeks to where Toji had his face buried in your cunt.

“Tha’s right, princess.” Toji praises, voice thick with desire and sending vibrations that make your walls clench. “Tell me how badly you need it.”

Body convulsing uncontrollably around his hot tongue, pushing you closer and closer to the edge - only to reel you back again. Denying you. Chipping away at your sanity bit by bit. A hand reaches to grab a fistful of his silky black locks, tugging needily - and you get punished accordingly. 

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“E-eight! Hngh- please.” 

“Please!” you moan, voice raw with need and desperation. Finally breaking for him - being pushed this far with anyone before. “Please, let me cum. Please please wanna cum-.” Close. You were so close that it hurt.

Ever the merciful man, he forgives this little transgression. Only continuing to cup your sore cheeks possessively, hands mapping the expanse of your heated skin.

“Please, Daddy.” you choke, a broken whisper. Now exhausted, knees weakening, it’s all you can do to not collapse on the floor, Toji’s strong hold on your hip to control you being the only thing holding you up.

Several things happen at once. You barely even feel the final two, sharp slaps - too far gone to register anything other than the rough thumb pressing on your sensitive clit. Hard. 

And then you’re cumming. 

Body convulsing and bowing into him, crying out raw moans of Toji’s name as you cream around his tongue. Your vision blurs at the edges, grip searing on Toji’s hair, tangling in the soft strands and pulling him impossibly closer to ride out your high on his pretty face. 

White-hot pleasure courses through your entire body, thighs quivering delicately around his face as you chase peak after peak. 

As the stars behind your eyes disappear into nothingness, you’re left limp and boneless, held up against the wall with a single, muscled hand.

Toji - ever the gentleman, supports you with a steady arm before you slip down the wall, valiant knees finally giving out. 

Blinking your vision back, you catch a glimpse of his achingly hard erection. Straining painfully against his trousers, a dark patch right where his thick head was. And despite your severely fucked out state, your mouth still waters.

Obviously catching your line of sight, he adjusts his uncomfortably tight pants. Steering your still-lustfully delirious self to the bed. “You were such a good girl f’me, princess. Let’s stay that way, hm?”

You blink up at him, confusion clouding your mind. Did he just compliment you? You must be mistaken. 

But as you look into his eyes, you see a genuine twinkle of fondness mixed in with the desire that makes your skin burn. A heady combination. One that makes your mind spin, even as you’re carefully placed on the soft bed. Even as he swiftly closes the door with a low whisper of “Rest now, you’ve got a busy day tomorrow.” leaving no room for argument.

Sinking into the soft mattress, a strange surge of euphoria rushes through you as you realize two things:

Nothing would ever be the same. 

It was going to be your personal challenge to make Toji Fushiguro crack. 

Heart racing, feet thumping tersely against the plush carpet, for perhaps the first time in years, Fushiguro Toji is taken aback. The heavenly sight of you falling apart underneath him searing into his brain. Something coiling uncomfortably in his stomach, rushing all the way to his throbbing dick. But, right now, the only thing he’s thinking of being to fucking find somewhere to fuck his fist to the memory.

---

Your third night in Tokyo was a whirlwind of lights and camera flashes. And yet, in the midst of it all you still escaped - this time with Toji - claiming “security talks”. Pulling him into an abandoned green room, your glossy lips capture his with searing passion. Pulling away teasingly, breathless, only once you were sure you’d kissed him silly and achingly hard. And promptly skipping away to bother your make-up artist.

Ah, yet the stubborn bastard still didn’t crack.

It’s in Melbourne where you learned that Toji was much more than just a bodyguard. Finally bothering him enough to join you out rather than shadow you for the first time. Dragging him to a tiny karaoke booth tucked away in a dimly lit corner of town, belting out your favorite tunes to him while he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. And if you caught a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, well, neither of you said anything. 

Your glittering heels were placed teasingly in his lap, chattering away as he drove you two back, your favorite pastime as of late. A silent dare, almost goading. His steely gaze trained on the bustling road and that one annoying blue car trying to swerve him. 

“So, Toji, in your military stint ever tried to sneak away incognito but wear a disguise so bad you end up on the front page?”

He chuckles, eyes flickering down at your feet resting comfortably on him. “Can’t say I have, but I once mistook a high-ranking officer for a recruit. Had him doing push-ups before I realized my mistake.”

You burst into laughter, sound echoing in the car. Feet brushing against him right there - just a little accident, right?

But it takes until Paris for you two to break.

In the chic confines of your favorite studio in Nanterre, the scent of freshly brewed coffee heavy in the air, you find yourself chattering away on call with Gojo Satoru. His voice crackling through the speaker amidst the glow of studio lights.

“That beat you sent is pure magic, Satoru. It’s perfect!” you hum, excitement bubbling in your voice as you bob your head to the soft music playing in the background. 

Satoru’s response is immediate, enthusiasm matching yours, “See, what did I tell ya. Can’t wait to see what you’ll come up with. You sure I get no sneak peaks for this secret lil’ project of yours?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Thought so, but anyway, how’s the City of Love been treating you, darling?” he teases.

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully, “Please, Satoru. You know I’m too busy dodging Toji for any of that.”

Satoru chuckles knowingly on the other end of the line, “Ah yes. From what happened last time, I imagine he’s been a welcome distraction, huh? Hey, is his dick really as big as his BDE is?”

“Oh fuck off.” you scoff, heat rising to your cheeks. “And for that, I’m leaving.” 

Swiftly ending the call, you cut off Satoru’s protests. Slight embarrassment coursing through your veins at how apparently obvious you two had been. A strange pang of longing flickers in your chest as you realize you haven’t seen Toji all day - Nanami mentioned something about a security briefing for your closely upcoming Grammy performance.

You sigh at the irony of the situation - just when you thought you got that freedom you’d been yearning for so long, you find yourself wanting for that musclehead presence even more. 

Shaking your head, you turn back to your mixing console, ready to throw yourself into the music once more. Yet before you could, your phone buzzes with a new notification. A quick glance reveals that familiar contact name and a series of messages that have your cheeks flaring once more. 

Blind rat #4 🧿🧿:

You better not block me for this but is this secret project for that bodyguard? You whipped WHORE~~

LMAO JKJK IK you don’t write songs about other people.

Unless…

As that block button was tapped, it’s said that Satoru’s piercing shriek echoed across in all 23 wards of Tokyo - making the people fear an oncoming Godzilla attack.

“Damn Satoru.” you grumble, tossing your phone onto the leather sofa in the corner. “Always saying stupid thi-”

But as you turn around, your breath catches in your throat. There, standing in the doorway, is Toji. His presence filling the space, commanding attention with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Toji?” you breathe, surprise mingling with a rush of conflicting emotions. “I didn’t expect the briefing to end so soon-”

“What’s this about that brat Satoru, princess?” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly. 

He raises his head to meet your gaze, and a jolt of electricity runs through your body. Oh, those eyes. Your skin feels heated in the crackling air. “Nothing.” you reply - almost suspiciously quickly - the words tumbling out in a rush, “Just Satoru being...well, Satoru.”

Toji’s lips twitch in a semblance of a smile, a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes among that carnal look. “I see,” he murmurs, taking a step closer to you. You have half the mind to step back - but why would you ever.

“Y’know, I didn’t think you still talk with that white-haired clown.” his minty breath fans your face, darkened eyes searching yours. And you can see the question forming in them before he even asks. “You still plan on fuckin’ him when you go back to Tokyo?”

And usually you’d bristle. Usually, that hardened part of you that never takes shit would rear her head and give Toji an earful. Usually. But right now, a dangerous idea was taking root in your head. 

Heat rushing to your core at the look in his eyes that said he wanted to devour you alive, you simply tilt your head coyly. 

“So what?” A smirk playing on your lips, “Gonna do something about it, daddy? Or are you just gonna leave me all hot and bothered like you have-”

Your back hits the leather sofa before you even realize what is happening. 

Bouncing at the sheer force of his throw, you let out a yelp of surprise. Skirt riding up, legs splaying out so sinfully for him. 

The cushion dips as he looms closer, approaching you unhurriedly like a predatory closing in on its prey. A dangerous little smirk playing on your lips, you spread your legs wider, inviting him in. A carnal part of you relishing in the way his eyes can’t seem to decide between your soaked panties and the way you bite your lips so coyly.

“If you’re that desperate, then you’re gonna get it, my lil’ slut” 

He’s on top of you now, tongue hot against your neck, leaving heated, open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. You yelp as sharp teeth dig into the soft skin. Hands exploring every inch of you, desperate for more - and you’re no better.

Sharp nails digging into that sinfully tight t-shirt, all but tearing it to shreds. Your mouth waters as it hits the floor, Toji’s chiseled body on full display. Your eyes greedily take in every curve and dip, hands reaching out to grope the toned skin. Pulling. Teasing. Not enough time in the world to savor the Adonis that was Toji Fushiguro.

His hands were pulling up your shirt haphazardly. Bunching your panties with two fingers, pulling down down down till your cunt was bare and spread open so shamefully for him. “Shit, so wet n’ ready. This for me or that brat, huh?” he grunts cruelly, lowering himself beside you to murmur in your ear.

“Now, on your knees, princess. Be a good lil’ slut for me and don’t make me wait.”  breath hot against your ears, making you shudder so sinfully. It made him want to eat you alive.

You consider disobeying him, just to face his delicious punishment. But that predatory look in his eyes has you immediately dropping to the ground in front of him.

Your hungry gaze takes in the heavenly sight before you. Legs spread, eyes half-lidded, pants pulled down just enough so that his heavy, leaking cock bobbing enticingly in the air. 

Eyes widening, your cunt clenches in both fear and anticipation. Shit, maybe this was why he was holding back. 

He was big. Ridiculously big, and rock-hard. Furiously red with thick veins running down the side, glistening with precum.

“C’mon now, if you’re gonna act like such a slut then learn to take it like one, princess.” Saliva pools on your tongue, warm as it hits Toji’s thick tip, achingly hard. A carnal part of you relishes in the low hiss that leaves him. 

Your tongue snakes out, unable to hold yourself back any longer. Swiping at the droplets of precum pooling on his tip. The sinfully salty taste explodes on your tongue, sending shocks of pleasure right to your cunt.

You feel his intense gaze on you as your mouth wraps around his thick head, inching down slowly. Stretching your lips obscenely, filling you up in ways you never thought were possible. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat as he pulses in your throat. It was overwhelming and everything you wanted to be doing right now.

Ah, but you should’ve known by now. Should’ve realized as your teary eyes look up to meet the dangerous glint in his. 

With a feral groan, his hips thrust forward. You were too slow. 

Hardening impossibly at the way you choke and gag around him, tears springing to your eyes. Using you in a way that was so debauched. “Hah- Fuck. love it when you sing, princess, but you look better choking on my cock.”

Your nose was buried in his pubic hair now, wet with saliva and precum. His heady, masculine scent filling your senses. Toji’s thrusts were jerky, desperate. 

Grip searing on your scalp, Toji uses it as leverage as he fucks your face till his tip hits your poor, abused throat. Moving you up and down on his cock with mindless need, hips rutting with reckless abandon.

Yet, you wanted more. Needed more. More more more. You wanted to feel him deep inside you, splitting you open, making you come harder than you ever thought possible.

And you’re guessing it showed on your dazed eyes. Because a broken, dangerous laugh leaves him. His grip on your hair intensifies, pulling your head back roughly until your eyes water. “More? You want fucking more? Then prove it.” 

Toji’s thrusts increase in speed, his raspy grunts becoming louder and louder as he rams his cock deeper into your mouth, your pussy throbbing in response.

You moan around his erection, unable to form coherent sentences due to his length stretching your throat. 

Without hesitation, you reach up and grab his balls, massaging them firmly as you suck him deeper. Pressing right in between that one spot you knew would make him see stars. Pressing tight little circles. Over and over-

An appreciative groan leaving him, Toji’s thrusts become erratic. Movements growing frantic. “Fuck, Fuck, princess, you're going to be the death of me,” he curses, his voice strained.

You rub your thighs together desperately, relaxing your throat more, refusing to let go. Desperate to taste him, to experience the blissful agony of his seed painting your mouth. But when has Toji ever let you have your way? Never, that’s when.

Instead, he yanks your head back, pulling you off his cock with a rough, almost cruel motion. Your lips pop free, leaving his sensitive head exposed to the cool air. Gasping for breath, your chest heaves as you try to regain your composure.

Before you can even register what's happening, Toji pulls you into him, forcing you on your hands and knees. Large hands grasp your waist, holding you firmly in place. “Face down, ass up. You’re going to take it like a good little slut.”

Delicious goosebumps erupt down your spine. Licking a long, languid stripe down your back along them as you position yourself before him, Toji couldn’t help but huff out a dangerous laugh at your sinful gasp.

Mouth watering at your glistening cunt, clenching so pathetically around nothing, Toji pools your juices on two of his fingers. Promptly pushing them into his mouth with a lewd pop! groaning at his favorite taste. “Next time, I’m gonna eat out your pretty lil’ cunt while you suck on my cock, princess.”

“Please, daddy. Anything.”

Fingers circling your wet entrance, your words were music to Toji’s ears. Music that mingles with your needy, disappointed whine as he abruptly pulls away. But that doesn’t last too long - with low hiss, he buries his throbbing cock into your dripping cunt with almost no preparation.  

You keen at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock. 

Toji was hot and throbbing agonizingly inside you, each little bump bump bump sending white-hot pleasure down your spine.

“Ah- are- are you all the way in, daddy?” he hears you whimper, voice tinged with helpless desperation. Huffing out a laugh, Toji’s greedy gaze catches on the obscene sight of you sucking him up so sinfully below. “Not even close, princess.”

Pushing in shallow, determined little thrusts that have your hot cunt enveloping him deeper and deeper. Cock hardening impossibly at the soft ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time he rams into you. If you wanted it so bad, you were going to get all of it. A hoarse groan leaves him as his heavy balls meet your twitching folds, fat tip kissing your cervix - finally bottoming out. 

Now, Toji knows he’s big - takes pride in it, in fact. But he’s never been more proud of the fact than right now, hungry gaze taking up the way your eyes widen in shock, snug walls clenching down with the struggle to accommodate him. 

“You alright, princess?” he taunts, voice thick with satisfaction as he watches your face twist with a mix of pleasure and pain. “Can’t your slutty lil’ pussy handle my cock?” Tell me, he as big as me? 

And, of course, you snap back - because you’re mouthy even when you’re whining around his thick cock. Ah, next time he’s gotta make you choke on it for longer. 

“Fuck you, daddy.” your response is a feral growl, hips desperately trying to fuck back into his. “If you’re not all talk then fuck me like you want to already.”

Smack! 

A sharp slap stinging your cheek, you groan in response as absolutely raw, carnal fucking need courses through Toji’s veins. Intoxicating him. Oh, he was going to ruin you. Grinning cruelly, he utters “Then take it. And don’t fucking complain.”

With that, he begins to move. Not easing in, ramming into you with animalistic efficiency. Your ass stinging as each thrust has his hips meeting yours brutally. Toji’s pretty sure his hips were out of control at this point, high off your teary cries of pain and pleasure. That cluttered studio heady with sex and pure, animalistic desperation.”S’good- ah! S’too much-”

Smack!

There’s no going back now. Toji fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits, and you love every painful second of it.

Vision blurring at the edges, you reach out a hand to grab the armrest for stability. Body jerking with each movement, his bruising grip on your hips the only thing keeping you from being fucked off the sofa.

“Who’s fucking ruining you like this?”

“You! Jus’  like that. Fucking ruin me, daddy.” Legs shaking uncontrollably, arching impossibly deeper onto his throbbing cock, you whine each time his length slides in and out of your swollen folds. “Harder…please, harder.” you plead, fucked out.

For perhaps the first time, he obliges, increasing his speed mindlessly. God, you were sure both of you were about to explode any second now. 

Fucked out of your mind, you barely register the muscled front pressing into you, abs rippling against your back. Large hands snake from your hips, leaving deep, purple marks for you to remember him by. 

Smack! 

Another handprint on your ass, as you frantically move your hips to meet Toji’s unforgiving cadence. Sensing your urgency, one of his hands finds itself on your throbbing clit, drawing methodical, harsh circles on it. Pressing just enough to have you seeing stars being your eyes. And the other - digging into your neck.

Your frantic moans choke in your throat, feeling fucking delirious off both the change in angle and the hand around your throat. Eyes flashing at the lack of air and the blood roaring in your ears - and Toji. 

“Open your mouth, princess.” he grows, voice dangerously close to your ears, cock still driving into yours with brutal precision. The intensity of the moment - electric. 

Mindlessly, you comply, tongue lolling out so lewdly. That’s when he does it - without warning, he spits into your open mouth. Once. Twice. Three times.

Steady stream of saliva slightly missing your face - on purpose, you absentmindedly realize - as it dribbles over your kiss-bitten lips and down the side of your face. A marking. 

“No one else gets to fuck you like this, princess.”

Hot on your tongue, sliding down to your throat. He tasted of such sin, it made your cunt clamp down hard.

“Now, what do good girls say?” he grits out, through clenched teeth. The absolute insanity in his voice matching the frenzy coiling inside of you.

“Thank you, daddy.”

You reach around to capture his lips with yours, nails digging into his neck hard enough to draw blood - a marking of your own. White-hot ropes of pleasure making you gasp into his lips - tender where his cock was unforgiving.

In the lewd haze of the moment you’re dimly aware of Toji’s body shuddering above you, throbbing cock twitching deeply in your pussy.

“Oh, fuck! M-hah- M’cumming, better take every drop like my good lil’ slut. Fuck.” 

You flinch as he groans ragged profanities into your mouth. Tight balls squeezing painfully as he cums with a loud groan of your name. Thick, hot ropes that paint your walls white. Two large arms wrap bruisingly tight around your waist, veins popping out as he crushes you impossibly close to him. Toji’s hips not giving up their torture on your abused, awaiting cunt, pumping his seed deeper and deeper. 

Full. You feel so full. And so, so complete. 

You can feel such an obscene mix of your slick and his cum mapping down your legs every time his hips slam into yours. Dripping onto the cushion, pooling at the sofa in a way so sloppy, you knew you’d have to scour online later for a replacement.

Stomach now feeling uncomfortably inflated and hot, vision blurry, you collapse onto the cushion. The last of your strength leaving you with the orgasm that you’re sure fried your brain. You mewl at both the sensitivity and the sudden emptiness as Toji pulls out with a wet pop!

A rush of cum gushes out of you, drenching both you and the cushion below. Limp and boneless beneath him,  you let out a sigh at the heat of his release seeping into your skin.

A soft silence fills the room like a lullaby. Everything feels so heavy. So dizzying and so warm. You barely register the strong hands lifting you gently towards the direction of the bathroom. The only thing on your mind being Toji and what a privilege it was to fall asleep in someone’s arms. You wouldn’t really mind this every night…

And in the dim lighting of that heady studio, fucked to sleep and covered in sweat and his cum, Toji thinks you’ve never looked so beautiful.

His heart lurches as he realizes - in all of Paris, the one sight he wants to look at is you. His pretty popstar.

---

“For the last time. I don’t do celebrities, especially not spoiled pretty popstars.”

Undeterred, the blond man leans forward in his chair, his expression indiscernible behind those glasses. “We’re told you’re the best of the best, even from ex-military. And if money’s the issue then I’ll double- no, triple whatever you’re making right now.”

Jaw tightening, skepticism dripped from his words. “All this for some celebrity drama?” 

“Fushiguro, we’re talking big people, and even bigger money. And a girl’s life in genuine danger on top of it all,” a hint of desperation creeping into words that cut through the tense air. 

“Genuine danger, huh?”

Toji runs a hand through his hair, questioning what the fuck he got himself into by opening the door for this human definition of a stick up one’s ass. Mind racing, eyes darting around the room, they catch yours - twinkling on the glossy cover of some magazine thrown haphazardly on the table. 

Traitorously, something prickly and uncomfortable settles in his stomach as the words ring in his ears. 

Genuine danger. 

Heaving out a sigh, he narrows his eyes at the man currently studying his reaction. 

“A year. That’s it. No more, no less. I don’t care if that prima donna princess of yours begs on her knees otherwise.”

But right now, your twinkling gaze set on him, lips curved into a blinding smile as you waltz through Los Angeles International Airport - as much as you could with your entourage - some small, raw part of him thinks he wouldn’t mind staying like this for a long, long time. 

LAX was probably one of your favorite airports. Not because of its size or architecture, but because of the thrumming energy of the opportunity to come. Namely, your Grammy performance.

Eyes slightly heavy, yeah, you were cutting it close - to Nanami’s ever-graying hair at the stress.  But hey - at least no paparazzi tipped off for your unexpected arrival.

You just couldn’t resist the temptation to push your departure off for a day. Taking the extra time to wander along the Seine with Toji, talking about everything from your new dance number for next month’s Madrid show to why Nanami was a masochist for staying in this industry, all the way to Toji’s military stories that even Hollywood couldn’t dream up. 

The setting sun casting a soft glow on both of your uncanny disguises - your choice of course. A newfound understanding crackling between you two.

And right now, his presence steadfast behind yours as you weave through the bustling terminal, you feel a rush of excitement at finally performing that little project you’d been working on. 

More specifically what Toji’s reaction to it would be. Would he love it? Would he hate it? Would he realize just what that inconspicuous voice memo you bothered him into was actually for? 

But then came the real test: would he realize just who it was for?

The thought made you smirk inwardly. Imagine Toji’s face when he puts two and two together. 

Turning around, you catch Toji’s eye, a mirthful glint dancing in yours. “So, Toji, ready to witness greatness at the Grammys?” you quip, tone playful as you bump shoulders with him. Of course, the man barely budges. 

He raises an eyebrow, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “As long as I don't have to wear a tuxedo, princess.”

“Aww, and here I was thinking we could match.” you whine. Though a chuckle leaves your lips, “And that reminds me…” you trail off as your voice drops to a conspicuous whisper.

Delighting at the playful sigh that leaves his lips as Toji leans down, allowing you to whisper words meant for only him. “You better reward me after my performance, y’know. I remember someone saying something about ‘eating me out till I cry’” 

“You won’t be getting any reward if you continue acting like such a slut, princess.” warm breath tickling your ear as he murmurs. 

“If the shoe fits.” you bat your lashes, mockingly innocent. 

“If the shoe fits then please get into the car. The driver’s here and the team are on their way.” Nanami’s no-nonsense voice rings out. Already sounding dangerously close to an impending stroke. 

“Yes, mother.” you quip, stifling your laughter as you step outside. It’s a short walk to your destination, the cool morning breeze greeting you as you head for your waiting car, just stuck behind some slightly-oddly parked blue car. 

Ah, that’s LA for you, you chuckle inwardly, walking towards it - that strangely familiar blue car. The one you’ve seen a few too many times these past few weeks in the corner of your vision. 

Strange.

Steps slightly speeding up, a cold sweat trickles down your spine. Unease prickling at the back of your mind, something tells you you’re being watched. And not in the way of paparazzi snapping a stray picture.

Subconsciously, you take a half-glance inside the car - time freezes. Heart immediately lurching into your throat at the sight.

There. 

The door swings open. 

A flash of blue hair, one foot out of that dreaded blue car - is him. You don’t know how you knew it was him. You don’t know how you knew he was there. The only thing being your eyes locked on that glinting knife in his hand. Winking mockingly at you in the morning sun. 

Gray eyes locked on yours, whirling with chilling maniacal intensity. The cool morning breeze feels icy against your skin as a primal fear claws at your insides once you realize the imminent danger.

Toji’s trained instincts kick into high gear, eyes locked with his. Positioning himself between you and the assailant, his hand reaches for the weapon concealed beneath his suit jacket. Only for them to stutter in midair as he realizes they’re still safely stored in his checked luggage. Unreachable. 

Shit. Clever bastard.

Nanami moves with a swift grace, eyes scanning the surroundings for any nearby law enforcement. 

Mahito’s lips curl into a malevolent smirk as he realizes the vulnerability, grip tightening on his knife as he takes a menacing step forward. The air so tense you found it hard to breathe.

“You.” the words ring venomously, panic surging within you. “You think you’re so high and mighty, huh?”

“Step back before you do something you regret, you freak.” Toji’s voice is steady, body poised for action. Eyes locked on every minute tremor of the knife in his hands.

His eyes wide and bloodshot, staring right into Toji - almost as if trying to look at you through him. “Little princess~” he taunts in an eerie sing-song voice. “Why did you leave me here all alone, I was lonely, y’know~ And this gorilla never left you alone, ah what a pain to follow you around. But I did it- of course, I did it for my princess.” 

Another step forward.

No one engaged with Mahito’s delirious rambles. Nanami’s hand was firm on your shoulder, whispering in your ear to get away. Now. 

But your mind was stuck on the words that cut through you like a knife - the knife that he was now slicing through the air in jagged, deranged motions. “She can’t leave. She belongs here with me.”

Before anyone can react, Mahito throws himself forward with startling speed. Glinting blade deadly through the air. You stagger backward, the world spinning in a dizzying blur of fear and desperation.

Toji springs into action with lightning speed, body lunging expertly. Hands deflecting the blade with a swift motion. Knife flashing mere millimeters away from his skin.

Yet Mahito continues struggling relentlessly. Each movement calculated and cold. Hand slashing at Toji as he ducks and weaves away, attempting to divert the attack away from you. 

The grip on your shoulder tightens, “Let’s get away now. While he’s distracted.” 

You’re being pulled away before you know it. 

Movements sluggish in the air thick with tension and fear. Your body is frozen, ice running through your veins. Nanami’s urgent hold on your shoulder moving you away. 

But your eyes remain locked on Toji.

On the way he swiftly tries to find an opening amidst the blur of movement, knife slashing away as if it were a game. You were fighting to look back now, body twisting against the one moving you away. Struggling to follow Toji’s powerful kick to Mahito’s midsection. The impact knocking the wind out of him, knife faltering. Yet rage still surging.

Hand coming down down down. Merciless metal meeting skin. Red-hot crimson flashing behind your eyes and staining the ground below Toji as he’s slashed viciously. 

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

It’s in Los Angeles that you think you might lose him.

The sickening sound of metal against flesh echoing amidst the blood-curdling scream you don’t realize you let out. 

The sound making Mahito falter for the briefest millisecond, a flicker of hesitation flitting across his twisted features.

And it’s all the opening Toji needs. 

Launching himself at the man, colliding with a bone-jarring impact that has both bodies crashing to the ground. 

A deadly struggle, and despite Mahito’s fierce grappling - fueled by pure madness - he’s no match for Toji’s punishing blows. Every strike clear and calculated, pinning his flailing hands to the ground.

The screech of metal against gravel and distant footsteps ring in your ears, as Toji wrestles the knife from his hands. Glinting metal skidding away.

 For a fleeting moment, the world seems to hold its breath.

“You’re supposed to be with me.” Mahito's voice pierces through the din, voice hoarse and desperate. “I’m the one who’s been there for you ever since you stepped foot in that godforsaken agency. Me. It’s me.” he snarls. Eyes cutting into yours.

Takedown tightening, Toji pins his body tighter against the ground. “You don’t have the right to talk to her, you blue-haired freak. Be grateful we’re in broad daylight and I can’t rip you limb from limb for her.”

You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding as Toji’s strained yet still steady voice rings in your ears - in tune with the voices you’re now realizing were surrounding you. As uniform-clad figures rush into your circle of vision, you distinctly realize with a jolt that it’s over. 

Knees weakening in relief, you feel them hit the gravel. It’s all over. You feel light-headed - absolutely delirious. Vision blurring with tears and all you can see is red red red. 

Blood roaring in your ears, you miss Mahito’s shrieks as he’s restrained and escorted away. The only thing registering in your mind being the warm hand under your arm, pulling you up gently as if you were something so utterly precious. 

Toji.

“Are you okay, princess? Need me to loosen another one of that bastard’s teeth?” he rumbles slowly, slightly breathless. As you cling onto the words like a lifeline, a fresh wave of tears prick your eyes at his uncharacteristically careful tone.

“Are you okay?” you repeat, words heavy with remorse as you blink at the sight of that stark red against his t-shirt. A deep gash running along his side that left Toji vulnerable in ways you knew he would never openly admit. 

Seeing your shaken state, he lets out a sigh. Pulling you flush against his chest, careful to avoid his injury. “I’ll be fine princess.” he murmurs, quiet words strained and meant for only you, amidst the chaos in the background. You lean into his touch, reveling in the feeling of him being solid and whole and here. With you.

You think you could stay like that forever. 

Ah, but one can’t get everything they want. 

Nanami’s voice cuts through the fragile peace with his usual calm authority, “I've spoken with the authorities,” you whirl around to meet his exhausted gaze. “They’ve assured me that Mahito will be taken into custody, and measures are being put in place to prevent any future incidents.”

Eyes flitting between you and Toji, he continues, voice taking on a much softer tone. “There’s no need for you to attend the Grammys after all that happened, I understand and will contact them if you wish to stay here.” And with that, Nanami walks away to a nearby police officer, presumably to give a statement - but you knew better, grateful for the moment of privacy he’d given you two.

Right. The Grammys.

Part of you is relieved at the prospect of not having to pretend that everything is fine in front of the flashing cameras and millions of scrutinizing eyes. And the other part, well, you glance up at Toji. 

Wide eyes meeting those green ones. Unspoken questions swirling between you two like a whirlwind. Is it really over? What does that mean for us? Will you stay?

Please stay.

“I don’t want to go,”  you confess quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “I want to stay here with you, make sure you’re okay.”

Toji’s gaze softens, a hint of warmth flickering in his usually steely eyes as he brushes a stray lock of hair from your face. “My princess worries about me, hm? I’ll be fine.” he reassures, yet words weak from the pain. “Go out there and kill it.”

And in the delicate tension of it all you find it in yourself to arch your eyebrow skeptically, “Fine? You’re bleeding out, Toji. That doesn’t exactly scream ‘fine’ to me.”

“I’ve had worse, I promise. Worst case scenario I track that freak down and break his arm.”

You let out a watery laugh as Toji leans down, hot breath fanning your face. His lips brush against yours in a tender kiss. A silent reassurance. But just as quickly as it began, he pulls back with a playful bite to your lower lip.

“Now go. Blow the overpriced silk pants off of all those overrated snobs. Trust me.”

You almost bristle at his words, but that twinkle of fondness in his eyes made all your inhibitions melt away - involuntarily, of course. Throat tight, you give an affirmative nod. 

Now, Toji always did delight in catching you off guard. But right now, ignoring the fussing EMTs, watching you be hastily ushered away by your team - the words tumble out before he can stop them. 

“Oi, princess.” he calls out, voice carrying over the chaos. “I love ya.”

And as he watched you trip over nothing but thin air, a lightheaded chuckle leaves him - maybe it was the bloodloss, probably it was that adorable look on your face. “Smooth, princess.” he laughs.

As you regain your composure and flip him off, promptly being whisked away by Nanami - who looks two steps into his grave already - Toji can’t help but feel a sense of pride swell within him. “Tha’s my girl,” he mutters to himself, a rare gentle smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

---

“Ladies and gentlemen, music aficionados around the world. It is my pleasure to announce our next performance, a star who needs no introduction. Get ready to witness the talent, the charisma, and the sheer audacity of the one, the only-.”

Cameras flashing. Cheers roaring, The anticipation electric as your name echoes through the auditorium, the audience’s excitement reaching a fever pitch as you take to the stage.

“Buckle up, darlings, because this is ‘Government Hooker’!”

---

“They don’t call you pop royalty for nothing, huh? You're going to take over the charts with that one!”

“Girl, who was that sexyass voice in that song? Drop me his number if you aren’t already with him.”

“Stunning as usual, huh?”

The whirlwind of congratulations and praise envelop you back at the Grammys afterparty. Your hand throbs from being clutched so tightly, and you can’t help but smile at the adrenaline and euphoria thrumming through your veins, washing away most of what happened earlier today. Yeah, you killed it.

But as you navigate through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and posing for photos, a nagging part of your mind keeps returning to Toji. Red, red to match your gown. He should’ve been here with you tonight. 

Nodding and smiling along at the compliments, you find yourself drifting away from the bustling center of the party. Constantly checking your phone for any updates other than Nanami’s “He’s alive.” text from a few hours ago.

Ah, there it is.

Finally reaching the exit, goosebumps erupt along your skin as you step out into the chilly night air. You’re momentarily blinded by the barrage of camera flashes from the waiting paparazzi outside. Their shouts merging into an indistinguishable cacophony. 

Yet, you push forward, determined to reach your awaiting car.

Just as you approach the curb, a sleek black Rolls-Royce pulls up beside you, tinted windows shielding the figure inside. God, you gotta remember to give Nanami a raise.

Swiftly sliding in, “Nanami you wouldn’t believe-” 

“I’d hope I don’t look anything like that walking resignation letter.” 

Your eyes widen in disbelief as you turn towards the figure seated beside you, and there he is. Toji.

All signature smirk and twinkling eyes despite the bandages wrapped tightly around his torso.

A gasp leaves as your eyes catch on them, a million thoughts running through your head at once. “Wait, what are you even doing here- You’re hurt, are you even okay- Should we call the ambulance? Those look like-”

“Woah woah, slow down princess. I’m clearly alive, hm? Why, shouldn’t your muse be there to personally pick you up?” he chuckles. “Besides, you killed it out there. That shit was playing was all that every radio was playing for the last hour.”

You can’t help but laugh at his teasing tone, relief flooding through you at the sound of his voice. “Well, you are the exception.” Reaching over and gently cupping his cheek, that small scar was rough against your thumb.

Leaning in, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights, you take in the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, the way his hand rests protectively on your thigh.

“Thank you.” you whisper, breath hot against his lips. And though you don’t specify for what - both of you know. Both of you understand. Your lips meet his in a lingering kiss, he tastes of mint and the anticipation of something new and freeing. 

Pulling away slightly, his gaze meets yours with a rare little vulnerability. “Always, princess.” A raw second of silence.

One. Two. Before a smug smirk curls his lips, hand squeezing your thigh. “Now, I remember someone wanting to be eaten out till she cried as a reward?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “Oh yeah? Right here, right now?”

“Think we’ll make the front page, princess?”

“I know so.” 

It’s in New York that you meet Toji Fushiguro.

It’s right now, giggling amidst the chaos of flashing cameras and forgotten afterparties, that you think you just might love him.

A/N. Actually frothing at the mouth I want him so bad y’all. Also, reader isn’t Lady Gaga, I just think the song fit.

Reblogs so, so appreciated.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[cosycafune]

SUCK UNTIL YOU CAN'T ANYMORE.

usually, you're not allowed to enter kento's office -- scheming. however, your mouth's filled with kento's -- trying not to get caught as you suck him dry. sure, he's going to punish you later. but that doesn't matter, right now. your job is to be a good girl and handle it.

acts: cock warming, oral (m) receiving, masturbating, gagging, crying, mascara streaming, and trying not to get caught. mdni 18+ masterlist.

MESSY, gasping for air, gagging mercilessly, that’s what you’re doing. Doing as you’re beneath Kento’s desk, listening to his assistant blabber to him about the disorganised workers – on the phone. Kento knew doing something like this was heavily forbidden, but he couldn’t resist his girlfriend’s doe eyes – twinkling naively as you pretended to reach for something under the table. Only to trap Kento, sucking contently away on his cock – glancing up at him.

“Give me…a second,” Kento grunts out, muting his phone before he lodges his cock further into your mouth – listening to you struggling to take all of his cock.

Kento has a streak for slight roughness.

“You wanted…this,” Entertained, Kento softly mutters. Murky cognitively, Kento hurls his head back while he shoves your mouth impossibly close to his cock base.

“Hmm, that’s… it, princess,” Struggling to converse, loudly moaning, Kento lustfully glimpses down at you – struggling to fluently breathe.

“Mhm,” Each vibration you sent causes Kento to buck his hips intensely into your mouth, engrossed by his colossal cock knocking against the back of your throat.

“L-Look at you,” Kento grunts out, picking up on your prettily playing with your soppy cunt – desperate for more contact from him.

A moaning mess, Kento grins at your smeared mascara, your dignity completely thrown out and disregarded. He knew it was more disregarded the moment he noticed you completely at his mercy, waiting for his full spurts of cum exploding in your mouth. It takes him finishing so deeply within your mouth, for your eyes to light up with satisfaction.

“‘Gonna have to punish you later,” Smitten, Kento chuckles – grunting with satisfaction at his balls being emptied by you.

You’re everything.

--

do not copy, modify or claim any of my works as your own. all rights reserved; cosycafune. 2024. small banners credit: cafekitsune <3

[cryobabiess]

Can you write a fic where the reader came to the palace as a new and untouched slave and is really beautiful (also her body). And like Caracalla and Geta want her but she is sassy and refuses but the second they touch she is really shy and acts innocent because she is a virgin but they didn‘t know?

Inter Duos Deos

pairing: Geta x Reader x Caracalla Tags: Light nsfw, implied threesome, dubcon

AN: Reader is named after the gorgeous Sherouk Farid 👀 Enjoy!

It is a miracle by your god that you've kept your virtue intact considering your unfortunate circumstances. The Roman army was civil enough to transport the female prisoners of war on a separate ship from the men. You quickly understood this not as an act of mercy, but of preservation.

A general dressed in leather regalia had grabbed you by the flesh of your arm, separating you from the other women being rounded up like cattle. He inspected you with an intrusive eye, hardened gaze lingering on the linen tunic falling off your shoulders. He forced your jaw open and ran his finger along your gums and the flesh of your cheek.

"This one appears to be in good health. No signs of disease, and quite the sight. Bring her to Palatine. They should find good use for her there. Atilius will deliver her."

They brought you to your conqueror's palace, where you were cleaned and perfumed with incense and oils. The servant girls offered wisdom as they plated your long hair into ornate braids. In hushed whispers, they warned against looking the Twin emperors in the eyes and urged you to keep your head down; do not show fear, for they will revel in it. Back home, amongst the grain fields where you laboured, there was talk of the two holy sons of Rome and their lust for blood and war; it was only a matter of time before they exercised their divine right and sent their men to the shores of your humble village.

As you stood before the great god emperors Caracalla and Geta, with hair and robes spun from gold, you thought they looked more human than what the rumors described.

"My lords, It is my greatest honor to present the spoils of yet another successful campaign!" An older man with thick black kohl lining his eyes pushes you towards the center of the throne room, gold bracelets chiming with his enthusiastic movements.

You discreetly glance at the twin emperors through your eye lashes only to see the elated grin of Caracalla, who eyes you like a starved animal. His aquamarine irises travel the length of your body, lingering on the round of your hips. The servants dressed you in nearly transparent chiffons and delicate gold jewelry, as per Caracalla's request.

"Such beauty you've brought us, Atilius! And to think you found it amongst savages." He jovially exclaims, leaning back against his seat.

"From where does she hail?" The taller brother, Geta, stands from his gilded throne and descends down marble steps. His dark gaze, though equally as ravenous, is more calculated than his brother's.

"From a small conquered village south of Aegypti. And salvaged from a grain field, none the less! Like a jewel plucked from dirt."

"Does she have a name?" Geta inquires.

"Is she pure?" Caracalla interjects.

You speak before your handler speaks for you.

"I am named Sherouk." You declare the name your father gifted you with pride and meet Geta's domineering gaze. He startles at your confrontation, his once pleased grin straightening to a hardened line. Atilius raises his palm to strike you, but Geta catches his hand before it makes contact with your cheek.

"Leave us, Atilius." He commands, unbothered by your words. Your handler looks at you with unease before dutifully retreating from the throne room.

"How bold! She will make for interesting nights. I want to be the first to taste her, brother." Caracalla laughs, sufficiently entertained by your futile resistance.

"I should sooner die by the blade on your hip." In the mere seconds it took to say the words, outrage erupted in the throne room. Caracalla stood from his seat in an instant, fingers hovering over the dagger sheathed at his belt as he strides across the marble floor. Geta holds the space between you and the spurned emperor, his palm colliding with Caracalla's chest.

"Peace, Caracalla, peace."

"Why do you permit her to insult us?! Allow me to grant her dying wish!"

Fear strikes you then. You hold your head high, close your eyes, and prepare to feel the cut of a blade, but it never comes. Instead, you feel the feather-light touch of a pair of hands ghosting over your shoulders, cold metal rings brushing down your exposed breasts and the supple curve of your womb. You gasp at the foreign sensation, your body tightening and your sex awakening. You open your eyes to see Geta's arrogant expression. His fingers dip lower, pushing past the thin layers of your dress to glide through the folds of your cunt. Caracalla's rage is replaced with curiosity as he watches his brother raise a single digit to his mouth to taste your essence. A shaking breath escapes you along with your feigned bravery. Desire takes hold.

"Ah, I understand now." Geta exchanges a knowing glance with his brother. Your facade of strength has been compromised.

Intrigued by your obvious arousal, Caracalla positions himself behind you to take greedy handfuls of your tits, his thumbs plucking at your hardened rose-bud nipples.

"Is it true, brother? That a bitch that guards riches barks the loudest." Caracalla rests his chin on your shoulder as he kneads your tender flesh in his hands. You can hear the smile in his voice.

Geta takes your face between his palms, caressing your flushed cheeks.

"Sweet Sherouk," His low voice is as saccharine as molasses, but false. "what riches do you guard?"

[meowlod]

Them seeing you in a lingerie after they come home.

characters: Neuvillette, Clorinde, Arlecchino, Furina, Wriothesley x fem!reader (bonus focalors)

(nsfw) warnings: teasing, dragon in heat, handcuffing, fingering, spanking, fucking against window, etc.

Neuvillette

Poor guy gets flustered and hard fast! You really like to tease him, don‘t you? You, laying in the bed with a lingerie on, looking at your husband with a innocent smile as he looks back at you. Stepping closer, he unzips his pants, throbbing cock hitting his stomach.

“f-fuck— baby..i need you inside me..please...“

He crawls between your legs, pulling down your underwear while pumping his hard cock with his free hand. Your husband was never this clingy before (unless mating), now hes right between your legs, at your mercy. Neuvillette grips both of your thighs to spread them more apart with his strong hands, guiding his cock right infront of your wet cunt. You wrap his arms around his neck, smiling. Your man could be in heat right now, and you have to take care of him.

”My hydro dragon is so submissive.“

Clorinde

You weren‘t expecting the champion duelist to come home so early, seeing you in your bed in such clothes. Clorinde takes a step closer to you and looks you up and down, taking a look at your outfit.

“M—my love, what are you..“

You grin at the sight of Clorinde with a flustered face. She always looked so emotionless, but not today. You‘ve been waiting for this moment, but the duelist just wanted to take a break. She crawls onto the bed and hugs your warm body, burying her face into the crook of your neck. ”Clorinde, how was work?“ Are you seriously asking such innocent questions while in underwear only? Clorinde slides her hands lower until meeting your ass cheeks, giving them a slight squeeze. You let out a small gasp, smile turning into a smirk. You know that Clorinde can‘t resist you.

Arlecchino

It is a dangerous idea to show yourself to a strong harbinger like that, but you won‘t mind if she gives you a punishment. Waiting for her to come home, you‘ve been laying in your bed with a bored expression until the door opens, revealing the Knave. Her eyes narrow at the little of clothing you have on, black hand gripping the door handle firmly.

”Just what are you wearing?“

You smile nervously and crawl further into the bed, the scary looking woman stepping closer to you and quickly pulling you up by your leg. ”A-ah— A-arle! Its just so hot in here, you know?“

Excuses never work with Arlecchino. She pushes you back onto the bed on your stomach, slicing the lingerie panties in half with her sharp nails before delivering a harsh smack on your ass. You let out a yelp, trying to crawl away, but the Knave climbs on top of you and buries your head onto the pillow to keep you quiet. ”Do you know how much you‘re acting like a slut right now?“

She slowly slides her hand right to your entrance, before slipping three slender fingers in. The sudden move made you groan loudly. ”I-im sorry, Knave!“

”Be quiet and take this like a good girl, la mia troia.“

Furina

You did not tease her much as she needed had to have some time for herself after all the stuff that had happened in Fontaine lately. But living in a house now, she‘s happy that she did not have to continue acting as a god. Now that you know her true self, you decided to tease her today to see her reaction.

You‘re laying in her bed in your lingerie, two glasses of wine on the desk next to the bed. Furina comes home with bags of grocery and puts them on the kitchen table before walking to her bedroom with a tired face. Her eyes widen to see you half naked.

”w-wha- uh- what..wh— hey..um..“ hundreds of stutters come out of her mouth as she stares at you with a red face. ”p-please— um- put on some clothes..i..ah..wait don‘t..“

Furinas lips turn into a slight smile as she takes off her jacket and jumps onto the bed on top of you, cupping your cheeks, giving you a hungry kiss that caught you off guard. You kiss her back, soft arms wrapped around her neck, fingers tangled in her short hair from behind as she unbuttons your bra, slowly sliding it down before throwing it onto the ground. “Mon bébé, you wouldn‘t mind, right? I need you so badly. Right now.“

You nod with a pant as you crash your soft lips firmly against hers once again, her hand finding your panties, seductively taking them off, skillful fingers rubbing against your cunt.

“i need you..“

Wriothesley

That man has been pretty busy in the Fortress lately, barely coming home. You message him on your phone several times, and he only reads them. Eventually, he came home with a hum and opens the door, smirking at the sight of you in a lingerie, checking you out.

”Wow..someones extra playful today.“

You chuckle at his words and stand up, seductively touching his chest. ”Of course, love. I‘ve been waiting for you.“ He scoffs playfully and gives you a quick kiss before taking out his fancy handcuffs, putting your hands behind your back, handcuffing them.

”A woman like this has to be put in their place, yes?“

A blush appears on your face as he picks you up with one arm, bringing you to the kitchen before bending you over the kitchen table. ”This,“ He slowly slides down your underwear, ”has to be gone.“ your panties are quickly taken off as he works on unbuttoning your bra. ”And this too.“

A gasp escapes your mouth as you feel one of his hands grabbing your bare tit, his other hand working on unzipping his pants, revealing a bulge inside his boxers. ”Be a good prisoner, will you? I know you will. Great, now lets begin the punishment.“

Bonus - Focalors

That woman had always been a teasing one to you, and you wanted to tease her back. She came home with a yawn as she opens the bedroom door, revealing you in HER lingerie. The archon lets out a little shocked gasp before licking her lips seductively with a smirk, walking towards you.

”Oh..tch..so cute, so sexy. So vulnerable wearning my beautiful lingerie.“

She pulls you by your arm and picks you up easily before pinning you against the glass window, breasts pressed against it, seeing views of Fontaine.

”Is this girl so desperate for a punishment?“ she licks your earlobe.

Focalors whispers seductively into your ear, using her hydro powers to create a water cock between her legs. You look behind you, only to get your head pressed back against the window. People could see you like this! Legs spread open and breasts pressed against the window. She quickly takes the lingerie off of you, laughing softly at the beautiful view of you fully naked. She holds both of your hips before pushing in, feeling the cock slowly stretching you open. ”F-focalors— f-fuck- ah!“

”My pretty girl is gonna be so messy after this. So pretty. I can fuck you against this window and people would see your precious little face.“ Before you could talk back, she takes one hand away from your hip and stuffs two slender fingers inside your mouth.

”Shhh, we don‘t want others to see you, right? Good.“

[buldakcorn]

Captured

LOONA/LOOSSEMBLE Yeojin x Male Characters

1349 words

Genre: (TW) Non-con, Size kink, Manhandling, Carryfuck, Belly bulge, Forced creampie

Yeojin's heart raced as the shadowy figures closed in, their towering forms casting long, menacing shadows on the cold, damp concrete. Despite her size, she had always been fiercely independent, but now, surrounded by these brutes, she felt more vulnerable than ever. The stench of their sweat and the metallic scent of fear filled the air as their grinning faces leered down at her. She knew what they wanted, what they were here to do, and she knew she had to fight with every ounce of strength she had to prevent them from carrying out their sickening plan.

Her eyes searched desperately for an escape, but the alley walls seemed to close in around her, trapping her like a cornered animal. With a trembling voice, she demanded they leave her alone, her words echoing in the silence of the night. But the men only chuckled, their grip tightening around her slender arms, as they began to drag her deeper into the darkness.

Yeojin's clothing was ripped away, leaving her bare and trembling in the harsh glow of a solitary streetlight that had managed to pierce through the gloom. Her pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears as the men's rough hands began to explore her small, delicate frame, their eyes glinting with malicious intent. The cold air of the alley bit at her exposed skin, raising goosebumps that had nothing to do with the chill. They squeezed and groped her breasts, the cruelty in their touch sending waves of revulsion through her body. Each time she begged them to stop, her words were met with a sharp slap on her ass, the sound echoing through the deserted space. The pain was a stark reminder of her vulnerability, fueling the fire of her determination to somehow find a way out of this nightmare.

Her eyes searched for anything that could be used as a weapon, a glimmer of hope, but the alley remained a grim tableau of shadow and despair. The men's laughter grew louder, their anticipation palpable, as they continued their humiliating assault on her dignity. Yeojin knew she had to act fast if she was to survive this horrific ordeal.

One of the men, a hulking brute with a sneer that sent shivers down Yeojin's spine, stepped forward and casually dropped his pants, revealing his engorged member. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at it as he stroked himself with a hand that looked as if it could crush her entire head. He bent down, his hot breath reeking of stale alcohol, and whispered, "Look what you're missing out on, little one." His calloused fingers then invaded the soft folds of her sex, rubbing her clit with a roughness that sent a shock of pain through her body.

She screamed a furious "No!" that pierced the night, her voice hoarse from fear and outrage. Despite her protests, the man's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with perverse pleasure at her distress. "You're going to love this," he leered, his voice a sickening blend of mockery and excitement. Yeojin's mind raced as she desperately tried to think of a way to escape, her body trembling with a mix of fear and revulsion as the men's grip tightened around her. She pleaded once more, "Please, just leave me alone!" but her words were lost in the cacophony of their lewd comments and cruel laughter. The reality of her situation was setting in, and she knew she had to fight back with everything she had if she didn't want to become a mere plaything for their depraved desires.

The man behind Yeojin lined himself up with her trembling pussy, his towering frame casting a dark shadow over her exposed form. Despite her efforts to resist, the men held her in place, forcing her to stand on her tippy toes to meet the brute's monstrous height. She could feel the hot, throbbing head of his cock nudging against her entrance, a stark and terrifying reminder of the brutal violation that awaited her. The cold, unyielding concrete beneath her bare feet offered no comfort, only a harsh contrast to the warm, sticky mess of fear that coated her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears streaming down her cheeks, and braced herself for the pain that she knew was about to come. The man's grin grew wider as he took in the sight of her quivering body, his excitement palpable in the air as he positioned himself to take her roughly. Yeojin's chest heaved with shallow, panicked breaths, her mind racing for a way out of the impending horror.

With a violent grunt, the man lifted Yeojin off the ground, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her onto his massive, pulsating cock. Her legs dangled uselessly in the air, unable to find purchase as she was held in his iron grip. She screamed as he thrust into her, the sheer size of him ripping through her tight, unprepared pussy with a brutal force that sent shockwaves of agony through her entire being. "It hurts! It's too big!" she wailed, her voice piercing the air with desperation. The men laughed in unison, their sadistic delight only growing as her cries grew more frantic. Her eyes bulged as she stared at the monstrous cock invading her, her tiny frame no match for the thick, unyielding shaft that claimed her with each savage pump. The pain was unlike anything she had ever felt, a searing, relentless fire that consumed her as the brute pounded into her mercilessly. The others watched with eager eyes, stroking their own swollen members as they awaited their turn with the defenseless girl, their lustful grins a testament to their depravity. Yeojin's world had been reduced to a whirlwind of pain, fear, and the crushing weight of the brute's body as he used her to satisfy his animalistic desires.

Yeojin's body, despite the agony, began to react involuntarily to the relentless assault, her pussy spasming and clenching around the monstrous cock that invaded her. The brute's deep, guttural grunts filled the alley as he hammered into her, his thrusts growing more erratic as he neared climax. Each time he slammed into her, his hips slapped against her ass, leaving reddened prints on her pale skin. The men around her jeered and whispered degrading comments, their eyes alight with sadistic glee as they watched her suffering. "Look at the little slut, taking it all," one of them taunted, while another chuckled, "You're going to take all our cum, aren't you?" Despite her pleas for them to stop, her body betrayed her, her orgasms coming in waves, one after another, each one more intense than the last. The outline of the brute's cock was clearly visible on her distended belly, a sickening testament to the brutal stretching she was enduring.

"Ah, I'm gonna cum, little one," the brute grunted, his eyes rolling back in his head as he felt his climax approaching. Yeojin's pleas grew more frantic, "Please, no, don't cum inside me!" she begged, her voice trembling with fear and pain. Her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, trying to hold onto any semblance of control she had left, but her words had no effect on the animalistic creature ravaging her. His grip grew even tighter, his thrusts more erratic as he neared the peak of his lust. Yeojin could feel the pressure building inside of her, the stretching and burning becoming unbearable as she knew she was about to be filled with his vile seed.

With a final, violent thrust, the man's entire body tensed, and Yeojin felt the hot, thick fluid fill her up, his cock pulsing with each shot deep within her. She screamed in despair, her body trembling uncontrollably as wave after wave of his cum flooded her insides, the sensation of being so utterly filled and claimed washing over her in a nauseating tide of violation. The men around them cheered and clapped, their lustful eyes never leaving the scene before them as they eagerly awaited their turns to use and degrade her even further.

---

Happy (belated) Yeojin day! A short one for the short one.

Will be going on a hiatus for the rest of the month and will go back to writing afterwards.

Ideas are welcomed. :)

[pupyuj]

[cw: dubcon, exhibitionism methinks?, fingering, degradation, humiliation]

well hello! i’ve been gone a while, yes but FEAR NOT you will never get rid of me (unfortunately) 😈😈 have a mean girl wony (completely different from “magic words” wony btw!) drabble for an appetizer tee hee 😋

campus princess wony who never fucking batted an eyelash towards her suitors, even the decent ones, but could never get over how you of all things never once looked at her the way everybody does?? every time you walked past her in the hallways without sparing her ass a glance, she was seething 😭😭 but she would never—and i mean never—go out of her way to make you notice her, nope! she was going to make you obsessed with her in the most organic-but-a-bit-flawed way possible! and her best friend’s small slumber party was the best opportunity to do all that 😈

being invited by mutual friends, you showed up in the most loser fit ever that wony almost wondered why the fuck she was so interested until she watched the way you scrunched your nose to raise your glasses—so fucking cute, wony was actually mad that you gave her butterflies 😭 but even in a small group, you still refused to acknowledge her! it was unbelievable; usually people would kill to be in your place, to be that close physically with her but noooo, apparently you were some hotter shit 😒😒

wony has had the luxury of watching you this entire night… you were so cool and laid-back, you got along with everyone pretty well (except wonyoung), but you were somewhat reserved… you intrigued wonyoung, but she had to save the pleasantries and introductions later bcs holy fuck she needed to hear that pretty voice of yours whimper and moan for her 😳😳 eventually she didn’t care that you were completely ignoring her bcs all she wanted at this point was to fuck you senseless,, that oughta get your attention…

wony following you into one of the bedrooms to get some extra pillows and blankets,, saying that she was there to help until she grabbed you and pressed your up against the door,,

“what the hell are you doing?!”

“do me a favor and shut up.”

her putting one of your wrists behind your waist and pinning the other to the door as she grinds against your ass, nose up in your hair and then leaving soft kisses down the side of your neck… “w-wonyoung, what the fuck?! let me go! a-ah.. don’t…” squirming and resisting as much as you could but ofc crumbling down the moment wony’s kisses get stronger, sloppier, hungrier… completely being at her mercy eventually, moaning at every kiss she leaves on her skin as she always thought you should be… “mhm, all wet..” she whispers in your ear while she felt up your pussy through your soaked panties :((

“a-aahn..! sto—wait, they’ll hear us…”

“good. i want them to.”

holding onto wony’s wrist while she rubbed your clit harshly,, biting down on your lip but it wasn’t enough with the added pleasure of wonyoung’s breath in your ear 😣 “should’ve known this is what it would take for you to look at me… i would’ve fucked you earlier, unnie.” 🫠 her letting out a moan when she slipped two fingers inside you?? relishing in the feeling of your warmth and how tight you were,, you weren’t a virgin by any means but it still caught you off guard… having to clamp your hand around your mouth to muffle your moans,, but wony was quick to swat your hand away,, “bad unnie.” she said through gritted teeth 😵‍💫😵‍💫

the very obvious dilemma you were having with yourself was enjoyable to witness for wonyoung.. how you actively tried to resist her by your breathy “no”s and “stop”s, but would grind back against her and moan so loudly whenever her fingers hit your sweet spots 🫣 but when she notices that you were stopping yourself from cumming.. oh she got mad 😵‍💫 “still keeping the act, huh? fine then.” and she just starts fucking you harder from behind 🫠🫠 she was relentless—pumping her fingers in and out of your cunt and snapping her wrist when she hits that spot just to drive you insane, slapping your ass until it was red, leaving scratch marks on your waist... it was all very effective bcs she had you screaming immediately 😳

her ripping your pajama top off without a single care in the world,, “don’t give me that look, unnie. i’ll buy you a new one.” she jokes but not really—she can buy you a whole mall and you wouldn’t even have to ask! 🫣🫣 wony taking note of the way the sweetest, sluttiest sounds escaping your lips once her hand reaches your chest… once again being so turned on that she moans herself,, “you’re so shameless now… you love this, don’t you? you want our friends to know what exactly is being done to you, unnie, hm?” wony pinching your nipple to force you to moan loudly :(( even giggling a bit bcs she just found this so fun??

really, really talks you through when you’re close and cumming 😵‍💫😵‍💫 all up in your ear while she does all the right things to your body… bite marks and hickeys on your shoulder bcs she couldn’t resist.. holds your hips still with her free hand while she fucked you in that same merciless pace, only a lot more harder bcs wony absolutely needed to see you all broken up for her 🫢

“come on, unnie… you’ll cum for me, won’t you?”

“yes, yes…! show them, let them hear you, unnie…”

“fuck, good girl…”

omgjdhchjs she nearly came with you with how horny she was watching you fall apart on her hand… the sight of your juices dripping down your legs and pooling at your feet made wony want to fuck you right there all over again but she had to suffice with licking your cum off her fingers for now 🤭 but wony barely letting you come back to your senses when she just leaves you in that room with nothing but a side glance bcs she’s just that bitchy??? leaving you to clean up your own mess, grab a spare shirt from your friend’s closet, and forcing yourself to show your face to everybody after all of that… dare wony say that your red eyes and flushed cheeks were more of a turn on that literally feeling your pussy clench around her fingers!!

but even if wonyoung treated you like filth.. she was still too pretty… so pretty that you don’t bother to do any resisting when she sneaks into your futon super late in the night, ready to make you see the stars all over again 🫣

[valentine-cafe]

how would the 209 herrera husbands be with an extremely shy assistant (like no eye contact, only the tiniest conversation and is always stuttering) who is still very kind, like giving them their morning coffee or silently arranging their papers in their office without them even having to ask their assistant to do it. (and of course assistant has a big crush on them, but refuses to say anything about it cuz 1. shyness 2. the boys are already married and they do not wish to be a homewrecker).

gn preferably so everyone can read it and keep up the good work i really love what you do guys and you’re basically my role models atp (sorry if the request is bad i don’t know how to do that at all—)

˖⁺. ﹙ mad doctor yandere  x gn reader x mad scientist yandere. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . Don't rush away just yet dear !! 🍒 :  jìngyí: mad doctor ˖ naga ˖ yandere character ˖ rishen: mad scientist ˖ mantis-moth-spider hybrid ˖ yandere character﹙ verse 209 jìngyí & rishen. ﹚

you are their shy little assistant

Now, they are no strangers to tepidness in the people around them. If it is not their intimidating aura, then their crippling charm certainly did the trick.

You were different, however. They have always loved the shyness of those they find attractive. You ticked that box right off with spiraled their interest to your constant cast-away vision. Your stammered struggles. Not to mention your sweet acts.

They would describe you in one way — darling. With your big pupils and flustered face whenever they so much as stood a few inches apart from you.

If these two are anything, they are indulgers. How can they resist a pretty thing such as yourself ready to run away and hide under a rock the second you catch sight of them? Your interest in them is so painfully obvious, so why not have a little workplace fun?

Your averted gazes are the first target.

“Let me see your eyes, darling. I am speaking to you.”

Jìngyí would muse whenever you desperately attempted to look the other way. Persist and you will receive lean, elegant fingers turning your chin towards him. Before your cheek receives a small pat and he smiles that devilishly charming smile.

“There we go. Not so hard, is it?”

Rishen is even worse. Whenever you stammered and hurried through your words, his head would tilt and his brows arch. That smile - it should be illegal. The more your heart raced, you’d eventually attempt escape. Alas his tut would stop you dead in your tracks.

“Now, now. Cariño. Get back here hmm? We’re discussing such important matters after all.”

He’ll put his hand on yours when you struggle further. Strike a smile that makes you wish to run anyway.

And then came the gifts. They were small at first — your favourite warm beverage, some snacks at lunch on your desk. Some random days off. Jewellery for ‘performance’-

How could they resist with that flustered look on your face and the way you so vehemently attempted to deny their gifts. If only for them to insist that it is of most important that you accept. You wouldn’t reject a gift from your employers after all — right?

All in all, you’re a fun little thing to play around with. Especially when you go on about your worries of being a homewrecker to Rishen — to which the scientist let out a laugh, cupped your face and murmured in a voice to put velvet to shame.

“Oh, my dear. Do you not see that my husband wants you just as much?”

Mercy, mercy on your poor heart.

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Hear me out ..yandere Macaque hcs …seriously love the way you write him ; maybe this reader lost her destiny one or maybe Macaque found reader first before the other monkeys did 👀 love to see what you come up with please 💗 if your not doing requests no worries you can ignore this :)

(Me: People here love this dude...

Destined One: I've noticed that...)

1) When he first met you, he knew what you were and why you were sent there. Of course he knew, because he met so many before you. The only difference was that you were fresh out of the change, unaware of everything that was around and so utterly alone.

It was just so good to be true; the new Bián huá was completely at his mercy, and of course he was ready to take advantage of that.

You were just so adorable, alone, and so afraid, ready to be eaten by the First Yaoguai lucky enough to catch you. And he was, of course, your sworn protector, a monkey that wanted nothing but help you! You just needed to do something for him, helping him find some magical staff that would help you send you back!

He had May lie—just a little.

He just needed to find the relics, take back his full power, get rid of you, and then boom, he was ready to be free...but you changed everything.

The more time he had stayed by your side, the more he became attached. He started to care; he started to crave your attention and your kindness, and soon he carved for more.

He started to make a few changes to his plan, like finding a way to let you live forever, to let him love you like you deserved, to be yours like he wanted you to be his. 

If it wasn't for that damn destined one...

Not only had he been searching for you, following that connection you two were supposed to have, but he needed to tell you the truth!

He was able to get the both of you away from that other one, but now he wasn't your beloved friend; now he was on the list that had played all this time.

"YOU TRICKED ME! ALL THIS TIME IT WAS JUST A LIE?!"

"Darling, please...calm down. Let me explain." You smacked away his hand. Your eyes are full of rage and tears.

"DON'T YOU DARLING ME! You said you wanted to help me! You were just playing all along!"

You started to walk away, trying to get more distance from him and yourself...only to feel then his sharp claws clutching your head and crashing you on the ground.

"I am helping you... by doing what I must."

2) He'll take you to your new home...with the right adjustment.

Oh, you can run free as much as you like! Just be careful not to fall from the cliff that surrounded the small mountain that you were on! The air there is amazing, and no one can brother you there! The only bridge that could have helped you cross the precipice has been cut off!

You can't go anywhere, and he's aware of that.

He'll give you time and space; he's not that delusional to believe that you won't scream and try to do some crazy stunt when he's around. He'll bring food! He'll make sure you're okay until he'll be sure that you won't act crazy with him!

But you really needed to give him that cold shoulder after all that time?

You'll ignore him for days. No matter what he does, you just kept your mouth shut and your attention on a wall...

You really know how to push his buttons, uh?

"Came on... I know you can't stay silent forever."

"..."

"Listen, I know this is not your plan of life, but believe me! It's still something! You were complaining about how full and boring your life was before, right? Now you're-"

"Trap ... It was boring, but I was free... and i REALLY don't want to be here with you now."

He gritted his teeth, feeling so many emotions in his chest. Before storming out the door of the house, he takes one time to look at you.

"All right! Let's see how much you'll miss me in a week!"

In fact, for a week, food didn't come at all.

3) He loved your stubbornness and your strength, but now it was just so annoying. Why can't you just give up?!

Stop resisting! Isn't it painful to just suffer?! If you just loved him like he wanted your tò do, then it would be so easy! But nooo, you have to play hard to get it, right?!

And let's not mention the so many escape attempts that you had made! How many times did he have to catch you?! How many times did he have to prove to you how dangerous the world was?! How many times he had to brind you the next monkey head before you understood that no one is omg to save you?!

You kept on biting and scratching his hand while he was dragging you back to the house. It wasn't painful at all. It was just boring... It hurt his heart, on the other hand.

"I don't want to! Stop! LET me go!"

He had enough. 

He pushed you on the ground, his foot stomping over your arm. Just near the shoulder.

"What are you?"

"I guess that I was too soft on you." You started to feel pressure on your arm; the pain started to grow second by second. "I need to be harder from now on."

You started to scream, scratching his foot, and punched him, but he didn't bulge a little. He kept on pushing and pushing until

CRACK.

You felt the sound of your bones cracking between the flashes of your arm. Before you could scream in pain, he was already down, his hand on your mouth, and his razor teeth near your ear.

"Does it hurt? Don't worry, I'll make it go away."

The same teeth that were caressing your ear were now deep in your flesh.

A missed arm was a good reminder of what he could do.

4) Were you finally accepting him? 

Where have you finally given up?

He didn't want to hurt you, but you were so difficult.

He'll heal you; he'll take care of you like he had promised. Your arm can't come back; it's better this way, but he'll be there, as he had promised.

He'll kiss every scratch and every wound that he has inflicted. He'll make sure you're loved and cherished by him.

"I love you," he whispers, kissing your neck and savoring your scent. "I need more than you think. I'll never let you go..."

Never such sweet words were so full of poison.

@sun-jglim @crimsonflameproxy @everlastingmoonlightsworld

@miraclecherryblossomsblog @certifiedsimpinggalore @sleepingdramaqueen @cromboloni @masksandfeathers

@cinnamonroll-anon @justrandomlypassing @cute-angi @luckyangelballoon @dressycobra7

@naarra @virtualexpertanchor @phoenixeclipse-lmkau @szynkaaa @kirax-the-lazy-girl

@sleepydang @weaverworks @kishimiest @marcu-bug @thepoweroffiction

@riolu4 @angryvampire @s0rr3l @rootin-tootin-morgan @lightlumi

@cleverfeststarlight @anfie01

@tunadunanana @jeminiikrystal @jssy96

@ladydoe8 @universallyweaselwobblermuffin @redtailedkitsune @blackknight-kai @black-star1472

@rovobeam

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

FEEL GOOD

Pairing - Jackson Rippner x fem!reader

Summary - Jackson catches on your disobedience in the bathroom.

Warnings - Choking, fingering, dubcon, corruption kink kinda, edging, typically Jackson behaviour.

Word count - .8k

Notes - this was writing out of a rushed urge, sorry.

The state of affairs was an excuse for Jackson’s cock to twitch in his pants. The act of deviance (or betrayal in Jackson’s charming blue eyes), the resistance from you as he tried to keep you quiet, the sweet squeaks you made as he choked you. But most importantly, it was your flustered tear stained cheeks and swollen eyes as your stare pleaded for mercy. The saying was true, eyes really do talk. 

You really did believe he was going to kill you, here, in an airplane bathroom of all places. The words on Jackson’s lips seemed to be on mute. The stern expression on Jackon’s demeanor softened. Slowly the back of his hand reached up and stroked your heated cheeks as he inspected you. You flinched at the first touch, his hand still wrapped around your throat in warning. 

“Just breathe” he whispered, seemingly kindly. 

You turned your eyes away as you felt his dark stare almost burn into your skin. The kind gesture from him wasn’t reassuring or kind, it was condescending and manipulative. His eyes lowered to your torso, you shuddered as the hand around your throat dropped to your breasts, his fingertips grazed over the rim of your bare skin. 

His brows furrowed as he noticed a scar on your right breast. In an unthoughtful impulse, he pulled the fabric down enough to get a good view of your abuse. A broken whine escaped your lips as he brushed his fingertips over the healed mark. 

“Someone do this to you?” Jackson cocked a brow, a serious expression mixed with what looked to be concern. 

“N-no” you lied. 

Jackson huffed out, his nostrils flared. He brought his mouth to your ear, the tip of his nose rubbed against your helix. The kindness was lethal as his hands rubbed over your waist gently. 

“Don’t lie to me babygirl” he whispered into your ear. 

You blinked and locked eyes with him, he smiled softly at you. 

“Yes” you corrected yourself in a small squeak. 

“Poor girl” he cooed, tutting at you. “Beautiful girl” he continued, more so to himself. 

He found great pleasure in watching you. You almost screamed to be looked after, to be protected. The knowledge of this scar only fueled his primal urges to follow through with this. You batted your doe eyes at him, too timid to even move an inch as he ate you alive with his eyes. 

You shivered as the grip on your hips tightened as he pressed his erection against you. It was instinct to scream, but Jackson’s hand latched over your mouth quicker than the sound could escape out of your lungs.

“Shhh, it’s okay, I can be gentle too, you know?” Jackson sighed as he rubbed his nose over your cheek.

You whimpered against his hand, ignoring his assurance. With a roll of his eyes, Jackson’s body pressed you harshly against the wall as his free hand slipped under your skirt. Your body turned stiff as his fingers rubbed against your covered core. When a finger slipped inside your tight walls, your eyes rolled back at the sudden electric vibration.

“Let it all go, no shame in enjoying this” Jackson grunted by your ear. 

You nodded your head, sensability out the window, his finger curled inside of you, your moan was muffled. It was shocking with how your legs were already trembling, he was certain his body weight was holding you up. His hand moved down just enough to get a better listen of your moans as he inserted another finger. 

“Such a good girl” Jackson praised, his lips planted kisses on the side of your face, his stumble prickled over your skin. 

You whimpered nonsense as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. For the both of you, the knowledge of your circumstances vanished entirely, your thoughts completely focused on desire. It was probably for the better anyways. Your arms wrapped around his back, your hand snaked into his chestnut hair as his fingers seemed to release your overwhelming stress. Jackson hissed as he felt your walls clenched around his fingers, your fluids were dripping onto the floor. 

“Needa finish already babygirl?” Jackson teased. 

“Uh-huh” you nodded your head frantically, his fingers picking up on the pace. 

With his hand back around your throat, his fingers rubbed over your irritated skin. Your hips flexed forward and back to create more friction. The room was darkening, sound turning muffled as you felt your orgasm build up in your stomach. Right when you were ready to blissfully explode over his hand, Jackson pulled his hand out of your panties completely. 

You gasped out, in a mixture of shock, confusion, frustration and sadness. Jackson grinned at you before he sucked on his clear-coated fingertips. It was extraordinary with how stupidly innocent you were. As if he’d ever give you a good time for free of charge.  

“I’ll let you squeeze my cock empty when the job is done” he winked at you. 

The reality crashed over you harshly. As you shook your head and denied that idea. But the both of you knew that he’d have his way with you, no matter the outcome of it all.

[moonselune]

Even a crumb more of the Dark!BG3 Found You, me lord, if it pleases you?

It does please me, it pleases me very much

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Dark!BG3 | Found you ! (Only Just)

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Controlling, manipulation, murder, arson, coercion

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Your lover has you cornered, let them relish in these moments

Prequel to this

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Conqueror Minthara:

Minthara stood in the shadows of the forest, hidden from view, her eyes locked on the small, secluded village that had become your refuge. She had spent months searching for you, her rage simmering just beneath the surface. The news of your location had come from a reliable source, and she had wasted no time in assembling her soldiers and setting out to reclaim what was hers.

The village lay before her like a tranquil painting, a stark contrast to the chaos and bloodshed of the Underdark that she was accustomed to. The sight of you, kneeling in the garden, your hands deep in the earth, made her blood boil with a mix of fury and dark satisfaction. You were blissfully unaware, completely absorbed in the simple act of tending to the plants, a stark reminder of the life you had abandoned.

Minthara's grip tightened around the hilt of her sword as she watched you. You looked different, softer somehow, as if the months spent away from her had dulled the edges of the person you once were. She hated and relished it at the same time. You had no right to this peace, to this semblance of a normal life, not after everything you had shared and everything she had given you.

"Foolish," she murmured to herself, her voice barely a whisper. "Did you really think you could escape me?"

She took a step forward, her presence as silent and deadly as a shadow. The soldiers behind her remained still, awaiting her command. She was in no rush; the moment was too perfect, too filled with delicious anticipation. She wanted to savor this, to relish the look of shock and fear that would undoubtedly cross your face when you realized you were trapped.

Minthara watched as you paused in your work, wiping the sweat from your brow, your gaze lifting to take in the serenity of the village around you. A small smile played on your lips, a smile that made her stomach churn with a dark, possessive rage. That smile should be for her, should be shared in the moments of conquest and power, not in this pathetic, mundane existence.

She could see the villagers in the distance, going about their lives, completely oblivious to the storm that was about to descend upon them. It was almost too easy, the way they had accepted you into their fold, taken you in, and allowed you to forget who you truly were. Minthara's fingers twitched with the desire to lash out, to make them pay for their naivety and for the comfort they had provided you.

Her eyes returned to you, and she felt a surge of dark satisfaction. You would see soon enough. You would remember. She would make sure of it.

With a final, decisive nod to her soldiers, Minthara stepped out of the shadows, her eyes never leaving you. The screams started almost immediately as her soldiers spread through the village, ruthless and efficient in their destruction. Houses were set ablaze, and those who resisted were cut down without mercy.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

Shadowheart moved silently through the dense forest, her senses honed and her steps light, barely disturbing the underbrush. The wretched moon hung high in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the landscape, illuminating her path just enough to keep her quarry in sight.

She had been tracking you for months, her anger and possessiveness growing with each passing day. The betrayal she felt was a sharp blade that twisted in her heart, and she was determined to bring you back, no matter the cost.

She stopped at the edge of a small clearing, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the hidden cave where you had taken refuge. The entrance was barely visible, obscured by a curtain of vines and shadows. A twisted smile curved her lips as she realized how close she was to reclaiming what was hers. You had been a fool to think you could hide from her.

Stepping back into the cover of the trees, she knelt on the forest floor, her hands coming together in a gesture of prayer. Her eyes closed, and she began to murmur an incantation, her voice a soft whisper that carried through the still night air.

"Dark Lady, Mistress of Loss, I offer you my gratitude and my devotion. You have guided me to this moment, to the place where my wayward love hides. Grant me your strength and your power, so that I may reclaim what is mine and teach them the folly of their defiance."

As she prayed, she felt the familiar surge of Shar's power flowing through her, a cold, dark energy that filled her with purpose and resolve. The shadows around her seemed to deepen, and the moonlight grew dim, as if Shar herself was answering her plea.

"Thank you, Mistress," Shadowheart whispered, her eyes snapping open, now glowing with an unnatural light. "I will not fail you."

Rising to her feet, she moved with renewed determination, her steps guided by the dark energy that pulsed within her. She approached the cave entrance, her presence a silent, oppressive force that seemed to make the very air grow colder.

Inside the cave, you were sound asleep, unaware of the danger that loomed so close. Shadowheart paused for a moment, her eyes drinking in the sight of you, peaceful and vulnerable. The sight stirred something within her, a twisted blend of love and rage. How dare you leave her? How dare you think you could find peace without her?

She moved forward, her movements as silent as a shadow, until she was standing over you. Her cold hand reached out, covering your mouth before you could scream, her grip firm and unyielding.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambition Gale:

Gale stood in his divine realm, high above the mortal plane, his eyes fixed on a single point far below. From this vantage, he could see everything—every movement, every flicker of light and shadow. His gaze was locked onto you, hidden in the sanctity of your quarters, blissfully unaware of the doom that had been set into motion. The celestial surroundings of his domain shimmered with an ethereal light, but his focus was unwavering.

A smile curved his lips, a blend of satisfaction and anticipation. He had achieved what few could even dream of—bending the will of a goddess. Selûne, the Moonmaiden, had been reluctant at first, her affection for her chosen followers evident in every word, every gesture. But Gale's threat had been clear, his resolve unshakable. The lives of her beloved daughters, the Selûnite priestesses, hung in the balance. In the end, even a goddess could be coerced when the stakes were high enough.

The memory of their confrontation played out in his mind, a triumph that fueled his ambition. He had approached Selûne in her celestial domain, his power radiating like a dark star. Her refusal had been strong, her protection over you absolute. But Gale had known how to break her resolve.

"Release them," he had said, his voice a commanding echo that reverberated through the heavens. "Or I will ensure that every one of your little Aasimars perishes in agony. Their screams will be the hymn of your failure."

Selûne's eyes had flashed with anger and sorrow, but in the end, she had yielded. She may have been an old god of great power, but she was a wise one. The pact she had made with you, granting you sanctuary and protection, was severed with a single, reluctant nod. The divine shield that had kept you safe from Gale's grasp dissolved, leaving you vulnerable once more.

Now, as he looked down upon you, his heart swelled with a dark, possessive joy. You were so close, so tantalizingly within his reach. The thought of reclaiming you, of binding you once more to his side, sent a thrill through him that even his godly power couldn't match.

"You think you can hide," he murmured to the silence, his voice a deep, resonant whisper. "You think you can find peace without me. But you belong to me, and there is no place you can go that I cannot find."

With a wave of his hand, he summoned a vision of you, an illusion that hung in the air before him, granting him more detail of yourself that looking down upon you could not. You were tending to your quarters, the mundane act filled with an innocent grace that made his heart ache with longing. How unaware you were of the storm that was about to descend upon you.

Gale reached out, his fingers brushing the illusionary image of your face. The vision shimmered and dissolved at his touch, and he felt a surge of possessive need. He couldn't wait any longer. The time had come to bring you back to where you belonged.

A portal opened before him, a swirling vortex of dark energy that connected his realm to the mortal plane. He stepped through, his godly form shrinking and adapting to the confines of the human world. As he emerged into the night, the air around him crackled with residual power, the very ground seeming to tremble in anticipation of his arrival.

As he approached your quarters, he could feel the last remnants of Selûne's protection fading, the final barriers crumbling under the weight of his will. He stood outside, his eyes glowing with the intensity of his divine power, his smile widening as he sensed your presence just beyond the door.

"You think you're safe," he whispered, his voice a dark promise. "But you are mine, and I will have you."

With a single, decisive movement, he stepped into your quarters, the moonlight casting a silvery glow over the room. The chill in the air, the sense of foreboding—it all made perfect sense now. The predator had found his prey, and there was no escape.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Ascended Astarion:

The night was thick with the scent of rain-soaked earth and distant wood smoke as Astarion approached the tavern. His steps were deliberate, his eyes glowing faintly with the predatory hunger that had come to define him. The tavern door swung open with a creak, and the cacophony of revelry hit him like a wave. The noise, the heat, the press of bodies—it all would have overwhelmed a lesser being, but Astarion was not so easily deterred.

He glided through the room with a grace that belied his purpose, his gaze sweeping the crowd until it landed on the bartender, a burly man with a grizzled beard and a worn apron. Astarion approached the bar, leaning in with a charming smile that revealed the slightest hint of his elongated canines.

"Good evening," Astarion said, his voice smooth as silk. "I was hoping you could help me with a small matter."

The bartender looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in Astarion's immaculate appearance and the aura of otherworldly confidence that surrounded him.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, wiping his hands on a rag.

Astarion leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm looking for someone. A woman. She frequents this place. She has a certain... presence about her. Have you seen her?"

The bartender's expression shifted to one of curiosity and wariness. "I might have. What's she to you?"

Astarion's smile widened, his eyes flashing with dark amusement. "Let's just say I'm a concerned party. She's been running from something, or someone, and I need to find her."

The bartender's eyes flickered with recognition. "Aye, I know who you mean. Comes in when we're packed to the rafters. Keeps to herself mostly, but I've seen her. She's running away from some deranged lover, or so she says."

Astarion laughed, a rich, velvety sound that sent a shiver through the bartender. "Is that what she told you? How amusing."

The bartender's brow furrowed. "You know her, then?"

Astarion's expression shifted, the laughter fading to a cold, predatory intensity. "Intimately," he replied. "You see, that deranged lover she speaks of would be me."

The bartender's eyes widened in horror, but before he could react, Astarion's hand shot out, gripping the man's wrist with an ironclad hold. "Now tell me everything you know about her."

Under the compulsion of Astarion's dark power, the bartender's resistance crumbled. His voice was a strained whisper as he revealed the details he knew—the times you frequented the tavern, the way you seemed to blend into the crowd, the fragments of conversation he had managed to glean from you.

"Thank you," Astarion said, his voice a dangerous purr. "You've been most helpful. Now, be a good lad and drown yourself in that keg."

With a flick of his wrist, Astarion compelled the bartender to drown himself in the nearest keg. The man's eyes glazed over, and he turned mechanically, walking towards the large barrel of ale at the end of the bar. As he began to submerge himself, Astarion turned away, his focus now entirely on you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Naturist Halsin:

The forest was alive with whispers, the gentle rustle of leaves, and the soft calls of nocturnal creatures. Halsin sat cross-legged in a secluded glade, deep in meditation. The moonlight filtering through the canopy cast an ethereal glow around him, enhancing his already imposing presence. He had become a figure of legend and fear, his crusade to restore the natural world to its primal state leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.

A sudden flutter of wings broke the stillness. Halsin opened his eyes, their deep green hue glinting in the moonlight. A small bird, a nightingale, landed gracefully on his outstretched hand, its tiny eyes filled with urgency. Halsin listened intently as the bird chirped and sang, conveying its message in the language of the wild.

"You've seen her," Halsin murmured, a note of hope breaking through his usually stern demeanor. "She's on the outskirts of the forest."

The bird chirped affirmatively, and Halsin's brooding expression melted into something softer, something resembling bliss. He gently stroked the bird's feathers. "Thank you, little friend. You've done well."

As the bird flew away, Halsin rose to his feet, a determined look replacing the softness. He moved through the forest with the fluid grace of a predator, his senses attuned to the sounds and scents around him. The trees seemed to bend and part in his wake, acknowledging their master.

He reached the edge of the forest, his keen eyes spotting the caravan in the distance. Halsin crouched in the underbrush, watching intently as the wagon bumbled along the uneven path. He could see the small figure of the old attendant sitting at the reins, oblivious to the danger lurking nearby. His gaze shifted to the back of the wagon, where he knew you would be hiding.

A faint smile tugged at Halsin's lips as he murmured to himself, "I knew you would come back to me eventually. The city was never your true home. You belong here, with me."

His heart swelled with a twisted sense of joy. The thought of you returning to his side, of reclaiming what he believed was rightfully his, filled him with a dark satisfaction. He moved silently through the shadows, positioning himself just ahead of the caravan's path.

As the wagon drew nearer, Halsin's anticipation grew. He watched the attendant slow the horses, likely puzzled by the sudden stillness in the air. The old man dismounted and began to walk towards the front of the wagon, his steps cautious but unhurried.

Halsin stepped out from the trees, his massive form emerging from the darkness like a vengeful spirit. The attendant froze, his eyes widening in terror as he took in the sight of the druid-turned-extremist.

"Who are you?" the old man stammered, his voice trembling.

Halsin's smile was cold and predatory. "You don't need to know my name. Your part in this story ends here, but you have played your role beautifully."

With a swift, brutal motion, Halsin grabbed the attendant by the throat, lifting him off the ground effortlessly. The old man's scream was cut short by a sickening crunch as Halsin's grip tightened, snapping his neck. He dropped the lifeless body to the ground, his attention now fully focused on the wagon.

He approached the back of the wagon, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and longing. The door creaked open under his touch, and he peered inside, his eyes finding you instantly. You were huddled in the corner, your face a mask of fear and exhaustion.

[earthlybeam]

May I ask for something platonic? A human child reader with elves? The human child reader who loves causing chaos, often getting into trouble, and is very playful but tries to act innocent. For example, provoking Thranduil's elk. The elves can only pray that the human child reader doesn’t get hurt—or worse. Featuring Elrond, Gil-galad, Thranduil, Celeborn, and anyone else you’d like.

Omg yess, I’ve always wanted to write something like this! The idea of a human child causing chaos among the elves is so fun and full of potential for mischief!

Gil-Galad, Thranduil, Elrond, Celeborn version below.

🏵️𝓖𝓲𝓵-𝓰𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭

The kitchens of Lindon were an architectural marvel, with high, vaulted ceilings and intricately carved stone walls. The air was filled with the warmth of the ovens, the sweet scent of freshly baked bread, and the delicate fragrance of Elven pastries—each one crafted with precision and care. The stone counters were spotless, the gleaming surfaces reflecting the sunlight that poured through large windows, and the Elven cooks moved with a grace that seemed to make the kitchen a place of serene order. But today, there was no serenity in sight. There was only chaos. And at the very center of that chaos stood you.

At four or six years old—Gil-galad was never quite sure of your age, but it didn’t matter—you were a tiny whirlwind of mischief and curiosity. You had spent the morning listening to the adults speak of matters far too serious for your tastes, and your mind had wandered toward more pressing matters—like the trays of pastries that were cooling on a long wooden counter in the kitchen. They were golden, glistening in the sunlight, their surfaces dusted with powdered sugar, and you could see the faint glimmer of jam inside each delicate bite.

How could anyone resist such temptation? With a giggle, you snuck past the distracted cooks, eyes wide with delight. The kitchen, usually the domain of skilled hands and quiet, focused energy, was entirely at your mercy. A small stool stood in the corner, its legs slightly worn but perfect for a child your size. Without hesitation, you climbed up, the edge of the counter now just within your reach. Your eyes gleamed as you surveyed the treasure before you—pastry after pastry, sitting so innocently.

You grabbed the first one with both hands, the flaky layers crunching under your tiny fingers. The first bite was like a burst of heaven—sweet, buttery, and warm. You didn’t even pause before biting into another, and then another, each bite sending crumbs flying in all directions. Soon, your hands were sticky with jam, your face dotted with sugar, and the delicate pastries were disappearing at a rapid pace.

But no! One pastry was not enough to be certain of their safety. Oh no, you would need to test every single one—just to be sure. Surely, an innocent one would be poisoned and no one would notice if you didn’t intervene. You took another and then yet another. Crumbs scattered across the countertop, and your tiny hands left sticky marks on the surface.

As you continued your inspection, your elbow knocked into a bowl of flour, sending it tumbling to the ground with a loud crash. A puff of white powder exploded into the air, swirling like smoke and settling over your tiny frame, creating a ghostly aura around you. Not one to be deterred, you giggled and continued your inspection, oblivious to the mess you had already created.

That’s when the syrup bottle came next—its glass body tipped over and rolled with a slow inevitability, toppling and spilling its golden contents across the counter. The syrup pooled around the pastries, dripping slowly down the sides and staining the once-pristine counter. The sticky sweetness clung to your arms and hands, making you laugh with abandon as you swiped your fingers through the mess and licked them clean.

But the best was yet to come. In your absolute dedication to the task at hand, your hand brushed a basket of fruit on the counter, and with a great crash, apples began to roll in every direction, clattering to the ground like clumsy little soldiers retreating from a battlefield. The floor was now a mix of syrup, flour, jam, and fruit, with you at the heart of the storm, smiling and humming as though everything were perfectly in order.

It was at that precise moment, however, that Gil-galad entered. The High King of the Noldor moved with his usual elegance, his robes flowing behind him in a perfect sweep. The circlet atop his brow glinted in the sunlight, and his demeanor was always calm, always composed. His eyes took in the scene before him—the flour drifting through the air like snowflakes, the apples scattered across the floor, and you, standing amidst the wreckage, a sticky mess of crumbs, jam, syrup, and honey.

You froze, pastry halfway to your mouth, the sticky sweetness dripping down your chin. Your wide eyes met his, and the silence was deafening. The kitchen staff, who had begun to murmur and peek from the doorways, fell quiet as they waited for the High King’s reaction. Gil-galad’s sharp gaze shifted from you to the mess around you, and for a moment, his usual regal composure faltered. His eyes twinkled with barely contained amusement. “I see,” he said finally, his voice calm and even. “And what, may I ask, are you doing here, little one?”

You swallowed the half-chewed pastry with a quick gulp, your hands raised as though in defense. “I was just… testing them for poison!” you proclaimed, holding up the mangled remnants of a pastry like it was evidence of your grand sacrifice. You nodded sagely, crumbs falling to the floor. “You can’t be too careful, right?”

Gil-galad tilted his head slightly, his lips twitching into the beginnings of a smile. He crossed his arms, standing tall and proud despite the utter destruction surrounding him. “Testing them for poison, you say? Such bravery,” he mused, tapping his chin with a finger as if considering your words seriously. “But tell me, did you need to test all of them?” Your small form nodded earnestly, crumbs falling like snow. “I had to make sure, Your Majesty. What if someone important ate a bad one? What if you ate one? What if you were poisoned by mistake?” You blinked up at him, the gravity of your words hanging in the air.

Gil-galad let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head with a mix of exasperation and admiration. “Indeed, we must commend your dedication to your task. But perhaps, next time, you could test these pastries with my permission?” His smile was playful, though there was a glint of affectionate amusement in his eyes. You blinked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Would you have said yes?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Gil-galad paused, his smirk returning in full force. “Probably not,” he admitted with a dry chuckle. “But perhaps, little one, we could avoid this next time by following the rules.” You sighed dramatically, wiping your sticky hands on your shirt, completely unconcerned about the mess you were continuing to make. “Then I had no choice!” you declared. “Someone had to do it!”

Gil-galad sighed, a warm, fond chuckle escaping his lips. “No choice, indeed,” he agreed. He stepped forward, lifting you from the stool and placing you carefully on another one, away from the mess you had wrought. “Now, little one, I suppose it is time to clean up this ‘necessary’ chaos. The cooks will need some time to recover from this disaster.”

“But—” You pouted, crossing your arms and looking up at him with a mixture of defiance and innocence. “Can I have one more pastry if I help?” Gil-galad raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Only if you promise not to spill more flour or syrup.” You grinned widely, holding up your sticky hands. “No promises!” you chirped, grabbing a towel with your gooey fingers and starting to smear jam across the counter as though you were cleaning.

The High King sighed, shaking his head, but his smile never wavered. “Valar help me,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing another towel. “You’ll be the death of us all.” Though the kitchen would take hours to return to its pristine state, with the cooks gently but firmly guiding you through the cleanup process, Gil-galad found himself unable to truly mind the mess you had made. You had brought a spark of chaos into the otherwise orderly world of the Elves—and he couldn’t help but enjoy it, just a little.

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

The grand halls of the Woodland Realm were quiet, save for the low murmur of Thranduil’s voice as he discussed matters with his guard. The king, regal and commanding, sat upon his throne, the soft light of the torches glinting off the golden accents of his robes. Beside him, on a carved wooden table, sat his goblet of Dorwinion wine, untouched for the moment as his attention remained fixed on the discussion. His back was turned, the sleek braid of his hair falling over one shoulder, giving no indication that he was aware of your antics.

And oh, you were up to something. Peeking out from behind one of the tall wooden columns, you squinted at the goblet. It sparkled under the torchlight, practically begging to be touched. Your small hands twitched with excitement as you stepped out of your hiding place, careful not to make a sound. The king’s voice droned on in the background, and you decided this was your moment.

Your little feet padded silently across the stone floor as you approached the table. You cast one quick glance over your shoulder to make sure Thranduil’s attention was still focused elsewhere. He wasn’t looking. Perfect. Your tiny fingers wrapped around the stem of the goblet, and with a quiet giggle of triumph, you lifted it from the table.

It was heavier than you expected, and the liquid inside sloshed dangerously close to the edge, but you didn’t care. Your heart raced with the thrill of mischief. Still grinning, you turned toward the doorway. But before you took your first step, you paused. You wanted him to know. Tilting your head just enough, you made sure Thranduil could see you out of the corner of his eye. You didn’t even try to hide your grin, and when his sharp gaze flicked toward you, widening slightly in recognition, you ran.

“No you don’t-.” Thranduil’s voice, low and commanding, rang out behind you, but you were already halfway across the hall. The goblet wobbled in your hands as you sprinted, the rich wine spilling over the sides and leaving a trail of red drops on the polished stone floor. Your giggles echoed through the chamber as you weaved past chairs and columns, your little legs carrying you as fast as they could.

Thranduil rose from his throne in a single fluid motion, his long robes sweeping behind him as he turned to face the chaos. His expression was a mixture of disbelief, irritation, and… was that the faintest hint of amusement? He placed a hand to his temple, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly before striding after you, his long legs covering ground much faster than yours.

“Put it down before you hurt yourself!” he called, his voice firm but not unkind. You didn’t listen. Why would you? This was too much fun. You were unstoppable, a whirlwind of tiny chaos. But even you had your limits. By the time you reached the far end of the hall, your legs were burning, and you were gasping for breath. Your pace slowed to a halt, and you turned back to see Thranduil advancing, his piercing gaze locked on you like a hawk spotting its prey.

Grinning mischievously, you held the goblet aloft like a prize. “Ha! I win!” you declared, your voice high and triumphant. Before he could close the distance, you made your final move. With a dramatic flourish, you flung the goblet to the ground. It hit the stone with a loud clang, rolling a few feet before coming to a stop. The remaining wine spilled out in a dark pool, and you clapped your hands together as if you’d just completed a masterpiece. Thranduil stopped in his tracks, his expression shifting to one of stunned silence.

For a moment, the entire hall seemed to hold its breath. Then his eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. He closed the remaining distance between you with slow, deliberate steps, his robes trailing behind him like a stormcloud. “You…” he began, his voice soft and dangerously calm. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”

You blinked up at him, attempting to look as innocent as possible. “It was an accident,” you said, though your grin betrayed you. Thranduil sighed deeply, his hand coming to rest on his hip as he gazed down at you. He was torn between annoyance and a grudging sense of admiration for your audacity. “An accident?” he repeated, one elegant brow arching. “You mean to tell me that your accident involved taking my goblet, spilling half its contents across my halls, and throwing it to the floor?”

You nodded earnestly, your wide eyes gleaming with mock sincerity. “Yes.” The corner of Thranduil’s mouth twitched, as if he were fighting the urge to smile. But he shook his head, kneeling down so he was at your eye level. “You are a menace,” he said, his voice softening. “A tiny, chaotic menace.” You beamed at the unintended compliment. “But you’re not mad, right?”

Thranduil let out a quiet chuckle despite himself, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “Mad? No. Exasperated? Beyond measure.” He stood again, gesturing toward the mess on the floor. “Come. We shall clean this together, since you are clearly in need of a lesson about responsibility.” Your nose wrinkled at the idea of cleaning, but you followed him nonetheless, your little hands grabbing a nearby cloth as he summoned another elf to assist.

Despite his stern words, there was a gentleness in Thranduil’s actions, a patient understanding that reminded you of why you liked him so much—even when you pushed his limits. For all his grandeur and authority, Thranduil could never truly stay angry at you. You were too small, too full of life, and perhaps just a little too clever for your own good.

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

Elrond had always cherished his study, the space filled with ancient scrolls, delicate parchment, and shelves upon shelves of knowledge passed down through ages. It was his sanctuary—a place where he could immerse himself in the histories of Middle-earth, unravel the complexities of the world, and find a moment of peace amidst the chaos of life. Today, however, peace was a fleeting concept.

He had just placed a few books back on the shelf, their contents irrelevant for now. He was tidying up, collecting what he no longer needed for his current research. The soft hum of the quiet study was interrupted only by the occasional rustle of paper or the creak of the wooden floorboards beneath his feet. His back was turned, the momentary silence giving him a false sense of order.

In the corner of his eye, he could see you—a small human child, no more than four or five, playing with one of his old tools. You were harmless enough, for now. His lips curved into a quiet, patient smile. You were always full of energy, full of life, and though you had a tendency to get into mischief, Elrond couldn’t help but find your antics somewhat endearing. After all, it was rare to see such joy in his otherwise serious, quiet home. But when he turned away again, to return the last of the books to the shelf, he failed to notice just how quickly you moved.

But when he turned away again, to return the last of the books to the shelf, he failed to notice just how quickly you moved. As soon as his back was turned, you saw the perfect opportunity. You scampered up into his chair, your small feet barely making a sound on the floor. Your eyes darted to his neatly arranged desk, and with an impish grin, you began your work.

The important scrolls that lay before him were neatly written, the fine elven script elegant and precise. But to you, they looked dull and boring—nothing like the bright, colorful drawings you loved to make. You reached for a quill, dipped it into an ink pot that wasn’t quite the right color, and began to scribble, your tiny fingers moving quickly across the parchment.

You drew spirals, zigzags, and wavy lines, your small hands leaving traces of ink across the pages that should have been untouched. Then, seeing a blank spot, you switched to another ink pot, one filled with water—there was no need for anything as dull as ordinary ink. You poured it onto the parchment, watching as the colors bled across the surface. It wasn’t long before you had spread ink splotches, water rings, and colorful doodles across the scrolls that had once been pristine and orderly.

In your excitement, you knocked one of the ink pots over, spilling the black ink across the desk with a small splash. The liquid spread quickly, seeping into the wood and dripping over the edges, threatening to ruin the beautiful surface. You gasped, quickly reaching for a cloth, but instead of cleaning, you accidentally smeared the ink further, making it worse.

At the same time, your tiny hands rearranged the quills in a haphazard pile, and your little fingers moved the ink pots around like toys, none of them where they should be. You giggled to yourself, pleased with your “improvement,” unaware of the growing chaos around you. When you finally leaned back in the chair, admiring your work, you looked up at the doorway, only to find Elrond turning back toward the desk—his calm face now frozen in surprise at the sight of the mess you’d created.

His study—a room that had once been neat, organized, and calm—was now a scene of chaos. Ink pots had been switched, their contents unfamiliar and in hues he did not recognize. Some had even been filled with water, leaving puddles of liquid to soak into delicate parchment. Several quills had been scattered about, none of them where they should be, and his precious scrolls, once orderly and precise, had been unceremoniously tossed aside. But the worst part? His desk, his very workspace, was covered in doodles.

And there you were, standing on his chair, caught red-handed, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you innocently tried to balance on the seat. Your tiny hands were stained with ink, and your face held an expression of mock seriousness, as if you had just accomplished something grand. Elrond’s eyes closed for a brief moment, his breath steadying. He could feel the usual shift in his heart, that moment of hesitation where he knew he needed to find patience—not just for you, but for himself as well. He took a deep breath before speaking, his voice calm, though there was no hiding the faint amusement behind his words.

“Now, what is all this, little one?” Elrond’s gaze never left you, watching carefully as your fingers flexed, leaving more inky prints on his precious chair. “Did I not tell you that my work is delicate?” He could feel the corner of his mouth twitching, but he kept his composure. “You do realize what you’ve done, don’t you?” You tilted your head, clearly pretending to think, though you could not hide the spark of mischief in your eyes. “I was just making it… better,” you said, as if the chaos was somehow an improvement to his work.

Elrond sighed, though his voice remained warm, a quiet reprimand. “Better?” He stepped closer to the desk, his eyes scanning the scattered scrolls and smeared parchment. “Do you think your doodles will help me finish my studies, or do you simply enjoy causing trouble?” You giggled, clearly not understanding the weight of your actions. “I thought it would be fun!” Elrond allowed a slight, fond smile to play across his lips. “I can see that,” he said softly, a touch of warmth creeping into his tone despite the mess. His gaze shifted to the spilled ink, his mind already working through ways to salvage the papers. “But fun does not always mean harmless, my little one.”

You were still standing proudly on his chair, looking down at him with wide eyes that spoke of both innocence and the gleam of someone who had just discovered the joy of mischief. You placed your hands on your hips, as if daring him to scold you further. Elrond’s expression softened, and he reached out, gently lifting you off the chair. He sat you down on the floor beside him, though he had to suppress the smile that tugged at his mouth. “I cannot have you destroying everything in sight, can I?” His tone held a touch of playfulness now, despite the chaos around them.

“I didn’t destroy anything!” You protested, crossing your arms over your small chest. “I just… rearranged it.” Elrond let out a soft chuckle, though his voice still held that gentle reprimand. “Yes, well, rearranging things that are meant to stay in one place can cause problems, little one. I’ll have to teach you how to respect the boundaries of others’ work. You wouldn’t want someone coming in and rearranging your things, would you?” You stared up at him, blinking innocently. “But I didn’t mean to make a mess,” you said, your voice soft and slightly apologetic, though the mischievous twinkle never quite left your eyes.

“I know,” Elrond said with a small, understanding smile. He began carefully gathering the scattered scrolls, returning them to their rightful places. “I know you didn’t mean any harm. But you must understand that some things are very important. Your curiosity, while admirable, can sometimes be a little… overwhelming.” You nodded, watching as he worked. “I’ll help clean it up,” you said earnestly, though you were still far too young to understand the full consequences of your actions. “I don’t doubt that you will,” Elrond replied, his tone now warmer. “But I think you owe me something first.” You blinked up at him. “What?”

“A promise,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “That next time, you’ll ask before rearranging anything of mine. Even if you think it’s fun.” You nodded solemnly, eyes wide and earnest. “I promise!” Elrond smiled, and this time, it was more than a small quirk of his lips. It was a full smile, though still tempered with that protective patience he always showed.

Elrond couldn’t truly be angry—not with you. You brought a spark to his otherwise serious world. And as much as you caused trouble, he would never change that. “Good,” he said, standing up and offering you his hand. “Now, let’s get this cleaned up, together.” And despite the chaos you’d caused, Elrond knew this moment—this child, so full of life and curiosity—was something he would cherish.

🩵𝓒𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓫𝓸𝓻𝓷

The forest of Lothlórien was alive with its usual serenity. Sunlight filtered through the golden leaves, and the soft rustling of the wind carried the faint sounds of Elven melodies in the distance. Celeborn sat at his desk, reviewing maps and records, his brow furrowed in quiet concentration. His dagger, ornate and razor-sharp, rested beside him on the edge of the desk, its polished silver blade catching the dappled light. You, the small human child who had found your way into the company of the elves, were supposed to be drawing on a piece of parchment near the corner of the room. At least, that’s what Celeborn thought.

Instead, mischief glimmered in your eyes as you glanced at the dagger. With his back turned, deep in thought, you saw your chance. Quick as a squirrel, you darted forward, snatching the weapon in both hands. It was heavier than you expected, but that didn’t deter you. No, this was your moment. You were an Elf-Warrior, just like the ones in the songs!

You raised the blade, holding it awkwardly but with all the dramatic flair you could muster. “Fear me, foul orcs!” you declared, swinging the dagger clumsily through the air. “I am the great warrior of Lothlórien! None shall pass!” The nearby elves froze, their eyes widening in alarm. One dropped the bundle of arrows he was carrying, his hands instinctively reaching for you, but hesitating—who dared to touch Lord Celeborn’s little human charge without permission?

Celeborn turned at the sound of your triumphant shout, his silver hair catching the light as he moved with the grace of centuries. His sharp, discerning gaze landed on you immediately, his calm demeanor not betraying the flicker of worry in his chest. “What have you done now?” he thought as he stepped toward you, his long strides purposeful but unhurried, his face an unreadable mask of calm authority.

You held the dagger out in front of you, both hands gripping the hilt as you waved it wildly. “Look, I’m an Elf-Warrior! I’m fighting the bad guys!” You swung the blade again, and Celeborn’s sharp eyes caught the way it almost grazed a chair. “Put the dagger down, child,” Celeborn said, his voice gentle but firm. “No!” you said, stomping your foot. You tilted your chin defiantly, gripping the weapon tighter. “It’s mine now! I’m winning the battle!”

Celeborn’s lips twitched, threatening to form a smile, but he quickly suppressed it. “That is not a toy,” he said, kneeling slowly to meet your gaze. His tone remained even, though his outstretched hand was ready to intercept any dangerous movement. “But I’m the hero!” you insisted, taking a step back, nearly tripping over the edge of the rug. “And heroes need swords! Orcs are coming!”

“The only thing coming is a sharp edge too close to your fingers,” Celeborn said softly, his hand still extended. “Give it to me, now.” You hesitated, eyes darting between the dagger and Celeborn’s calm but unyielding expression. Then, as mischievous as ever, you smirked. “Make me!” The elves watching from the sidelines gasped in unison, one even muttering under his breath, “Valar preserve us.”

Celeborn arched a single elegant brow. “Child,” he said in that measured, steady tone that made even the bravest elves pause, “this is not a contest you wish to win.” Your grip on the dagger tightened, and you took another defiant step back. “I’ll fight you for it!” you challenged, holding the blade in front of you like you’d seen the warriors do.

Celeborn sighed, an exasperated but faintly amused sound, and rose to his full height. “Very well,” he said, stepping forward in a way that felt both like a negotiation and an unspoken warning. “But I should warn you—I have fought wars older than your entire village.” You blinked, momentarily distracted by the thought of how old he must be. That distraction was all he needed. Celeborn moved with the swift precision of a seasoned warrior, gently but firmly grasping the blade by the hilt, twisting it out of your small hands with practiced ease.

“Hey!” you yelped, stomping your foot again. Celeborn turned the dagger over in his hand, inspecting it briefly before tucking it safely into his belt. He crouched down in front of you, his face now softened with quiet understanding. “You are brave,” he said, his voice low and warm, “but bravery is not the same as wisdom. And wisdom means knowing when something is too dangerous for you to handle.”

You pouted, crossing your arms. “But I was winning the battle!” Celeborn leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. “Even the mightiest warriors must choose their battles carefully. And they must never swing a blade without purpose—or training.” You tilted your head, considering his words, though your lips still formed a small, defiant pout.

“Come,” Celeborn said, offering his hand. “Let us find a safer way for you to learn the ways of an Elf-Warrior. Perhaps we begin with a wooden sword, hmm?” For a moment, you looked at him with suspicion. But the promise of more “training” was too tempting to resist. With a reluctant huff, you took his hand.

As Celeborn led you out of the room, his calm demeanor firmly back in place, the watching elves exchanged glances, some hiding smiles behind their hands. One whispered, “If this is what the child is like now, I fear for us when they grow older.” Celeborn, overhearing, allowed himself a small, private smile. “Indeed,” he murmured under his breath. “The Valar have gifted me with a trial disguised as a child.” But when he glanced down at your eager face, already imagining your next act of chaos, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of affection.

[tinycozycomfort]

flowering

pairing: jackson era!joel miller x f!reader

day four of @pascalisbaby and i's joeltober: degradation -> read her day four here

summary: Always itching to be blamed for something, just so he can try and redeem himself; some kind of penance has sunk its teeth into the soft belly of his desire, staking its hold.

warnings/tags: degradation/humiliation kink, sub!joel, name calling (whore) + pet names (sweetheart, honey), misuse of underwear (i know), c*ck grinding, finger sucking, edging

word count: 1.4k

rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni

a/n: yes this is late. yes i will beg for forgiveness.

main masterlist

“I didn’t even talk to her.”

“That’s exactly right—you did nothing. Just stood there with that stupid look on your face while she tried to touch you. And you let her.”

Joel is panting under the arch of your legs so hard that you have to readjust your body, rocking your hips back to allow his chest more space to swell. His cock catches on the downturn, the wet film of your still-attached underwear enveloping his head. 

You stifle a laugh at the hiss that leaks through his teeth, leaning forward to compensate for the new position—a small mercy—thighs bracketing the knobs of his waistline, seam of your cunt aligned with the underside of his length, hot and slick and what has to be painful for him at this point. 

The lip of cotton around your waist curls with resistance, tugging at where it’s wedged between his stomach and the mash of your joint movements, trapping him inside. 

“I didn’t mean any of it, you know that.” 

“I don’t care if you didn’t mean it, Joel. If you want to act like a whore, I’m going to treat you like one,” you tsk at him, stale, like you can’t believe you have to spell it out for him, “Falling over at the attention of any woman willing to look at you, even when I’m in the same room. You earned this—remember that.”

You careen yourself into a start again, little jostling thrusts that make the material holding you together peel and reattach with a wet slap on each pass. Your clit rubs against the ridge that separates his tip and you moan, light and sweet and selfish, your head thrown over your shoulder. You can hear the sheet stretch to accommodate his fist under you, the uptick of his whining; you beam.

“N-No, fuck, please–” He tries desperately to keep himself still, knowing better than to extend his punishment. He’s been at the edge of something he doesn’t deserve more than a few times over the last hour, the glide of your heat over him and cruel delivery of your words enough to have him on the verge of absent, dizzy with pleasure. 

You almost feel a twinge of guilt until you peer down to find he’s squeezed his eyes shut to remain focused, to keep his release at bay; he likes this, asks for it, he’d much rather be good than come. 

You hold a moment to just take him in—the soft haze of sweat that mists his face, the curl his hair takes in the presence of it, the twinkling sheen around his mouth of everything he couldn’t clean up with his tongue after he'd eaten you through two orgasms. He has the sweetest flush flowering across the flat of his cheeks, every bit as pretty as he insists he’s not, even more so when he finally allows himself to unfurl.   

Joel knows you’re looking, rolls his neck like he can hide—always dipping into a place of embarrassment over your attention. His eyes blink open and beyond his squirming you can see a shimmering glaze—that need that demands a cruel hand. Always itching to be blamed for something, just so he can try and redeem himself; some kind of penance has sunk its teeth into the soft belly of his desire, staking its hold. They fall in tandem now, hand in hand—one can’t exist without the other.

Joel loses his words, mouth floundering open and shut, so you wrap a hand around the line of his jaw to center him, fingers dimpling the skin over his teeth until you can make out the shape of each hard lump.

“No what, honey? Try it again.” 

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to be a whore. Let me make it up to you, please.” A fold of bone in his finger twitches at his side, the dragging motion rippling the bed near your ankle; his tell, he’s close. You are, too, the spool of liquid fire in your core unwinding, sloshing until it licks at your spine. You love to see him like this, so eager to do right by you after an offense he hadn’t even committed.

“So earlier when you said you didn’t do anything wrong, were you lying? Or are you lying now?”

“I was lying before. I was a whore, but I don’t want to be. I want to be good,” he breathes, and that’s what you’ve been waiting for, there’s that declaration—of better, of changing, of promise.

“Of course you do, sweetheart. It was a horrible thing you did, so I can’t just let you fuck me. What good would that do?” You pause the swing of your hips, bending at the waist so you can rub the crest of your nose against his neck, his jaw still gathered in your clutch. 

Trained to answer, he doesn’t hesitate, “Nothing.” 

“Right again,” you tap your longer fingers against his cheek and he preens, taking any reward he can get, “What should we do about this, then?” It’s as much a check-in as it is a threat, trying to gauge just how much more of this almost-there he can take—though you assume he’d toe this line until his body gave out, relishing in the feeling of being afforded repentance. 

“Let me make you come again. Wanna taste you.” Joel’s voice is broken, hoarse, and as much as you want to allow him his atonement, the thick shape of his cock isn’t lost on you, the pulse from within it thrumming devastatingly hard on your clit. You want to feel him, want to be able to have him undo you once he’s accepted his scolding, just as desperate for his prize as he is. 

For him, you see it through, keeping the routine intact—wrong-doing, judgment, penalty, reassurance, compromise, forgiveness, “I can’t just give you what you want, either. ‘M gonna have to make it a long night for you, baby. Think you can take it?” 

He’s nodding before you even finish and you’re grinning again, so enamored with the pile of man beneath you, fierce and hard and soft and delicate, everything he told you he wasn’t sure he could be again. 

“So polite. Come for me, then. This is just the start; gonna wear you out so good you couldn’t whore around even if you wanted to.” 

“I don’t w—”

You shush him, little tuts of your teeth that tell him no, as you maneuver your hand to be able to slide two fingers between his lips, pressing down firmly on his tongue. He moans, curling the smooth muscle between them, face going slack.

Joel sets off immediately, canting his hips up into yours, heaving when he ruts into the strip of fabric encasing you both, the strung-up spots having run cold—no skin to steal warmth from during your lull. 

You can feel yourself bridging the gap to completion but you refrain, wanting to see him apologize for finishing before you—he’ll thank you for it later. 

He thrusts shallow enough to continuously notch against your opening—tight, purposeful dips that bring him right to the cusp.

“Come on, honey. Shouldn’t be that hard for you. You drool for all the other girls, what about me?” 

That’s the last straw, apparently, hard intakes of air popping in his throat like gnarled cries, pieces of voice that sound like thank you, I’m sorry, I love you breaking the gulps between them. He spills everywhere, most of it getting caught in the halo of material still somehow propped on your waist, squelching when it drips back between you. 

You coo at him to guide him through it, an inversion of everything you’ve accused him of, freeing yourself from his mouth to press kisses to the corner of his lips. 

When he comes to, he looks small—sweet—the swath of color in his face running red. “Again,” he whispers, the bend of his mouth letting you know he’s giddy—unwound, “Please, again.”

[weneeya]

Hi! It's me again! I have this idea, use it as you will.

How about, Suguru being mad at reader for some reason, even a well deserved one, you pick it. He's so mad he won't even look at us. Then we try to convince him to forgive us in THE MOST Suguru fashion: sweet words, sweet touches, just enough to make anyone melt. And then it WORKS.

I call it, "Using my own spells against me, Potter?"

using my own tricks m.list | rules

pairing. geto x reader

note. hii!! thank u for ur request, once again! I'm so happy to see that you love my work <3 feel free to request :)

Suguru had never been this mad at you before, and you had to admit that you deserved it. He had been waiting for you for hours, calling you again and again, and you didn’t answer him. You simply showed up after two hours like nothing happened because you didn’t see any of his calls or messages. He got really worried, and now he was angry. In fact, he wasn’t even looking at you while you two were installed on the couch of your apartment. 

You tried everything, or at least almost everything, to ease his anger. But nothing worked. You had one last possibility, and you were obviously going to try it. You moved closer to him and he didn't react for a bit. You put your head against his shoulder, as your hand slowly moved to rest on his thigh. You started to draw small circles on it with your fingers, looking right in his direction. 

He didn’t seem to react, but his heart started to race in his chest. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what you were trying to do ; it was only legitimate, he was doing this all the time. But being tricked by your own trick is a bit frustrating. 

“Suguru, look at me,” your voice could finally be heard, soft and gentle, close to his ear. “Don’t stay mad at me, please” your fingers moved slowly to his knee, before going back up to his thigh. “I miss you, I swear I’m sorry.” 

He gulped with difficulty, closing his eyes for a second. He had to resist, he couldn’t fall just for this. But seeing you acting like this -like him-, it was way too attractive. If he didn’t love you this much already, he would have given everything to you. His gaze finally met yours, and you took it as the first step to victory. You could see in his eyes that he was losing it. 

You snuggled a bit closer to him, and your fingers reached his jaw to caress it very slowly. You had a soft smile on your lips, not leaving his gaze. He was about to give up, you had him around your finger. “Please,” you said one more time and a sigh could be heard from him. Finally, you knew it was the time. 

You let your lips meet his for a second, before you looked back at his eyes. He was looking at you, heart pounding and eyes shining. He was at your mercy, and he couldn’t fight against it anymore. He pulled you closer, hiding his face in the crook of your neck before you chuckled slightly. 

“Taken aback by your own tricks, uh?” You said and he answered by biting softly the skin of your neck. It took it personally, but it simply made you laugh again. “Don’t do this too often,” he finally answered, and you waited for him to develop his thoughts. 

“You’re too much to handle when you’re like this,” he added as he moved from his hiding place, looking straight into your eyes. He slowly rested his hand on your cheek, stroking it slightly before he put his forehead against yours, eyes closed. 

Maybe he got tricked by his own methods, but it was worth it. He couldn’t stay mad at you, and seeing you act like this simply made his heart sink a bit more than before.

it was so fun to write omg flustered suguru is making my heart race faster than ever lmao

[coco-loco-nut]

The Black Dog

pairing: Pierre x Reader

summary: You still mourn your relationship with Pierre

requests open masterlist TTPD masterlist

—————————

The past six months have drained the life out of you. Your relationship completely collapsed and you found yourself alone. It takes every ounce of strength to not reach out to Pierre, because up until recently you shared your secrets with each other and shared your location.

All it takes is one night on the couch with a bottle of wine to open the app you’ve resisted opened for the longest time. You didn’t want to see the app without his name on it and your silly profile picture that he hated but you adored because it was your Pierre. What you don’t expect is to almost drop your glass of wine when his icon is still there. He forgot to turn it off.

Against your better judgment, you zoom in, watching as he enters a bar called The Black Dog, one you frequented together. The thought of him going alone without you, and you going without him, pierces holes in your heart, reopening the wound. How doesn’t he miss you when he goes there? You can’t understand.

It sends you into a spiral, thinking about what he’s doing there.

Maybe he is there with a girl who is a bit too young for him. It’s a Thursday, so the band Pierre and you loved will be playing. Pierre requested a song a couple weeks after they were there and it became a staple in their repertoire. The song that you two loved, the song that played in your mind as you danced in the kitchen late at night, the song that you both swore would play at your wedding. Pierre would jump of his seat, the same one he always sat in when the two of you went. The view of the band was slightly obstructed but you always thought the lighting was perfect, that Pierre just looked so perfect in that light, he thought the same for you. When those first notes played, he’d jump out of the seat and extend his hand to you -now her- and offer a dance. She would look at Pierre confused and doesn’t get up or take his hand, instead giving him her drink order, assuming that he wanted to go to the bar. Then he would realize that she wasn’t you, she didn’t know the song, she didn’t share his habit. Old habits die screaming.

You’ve spent the past months moving through the world for your new job. It was a small mercy to have to relocate while heartbroken over your relationship. When your friends check in on you, you always act okay. They will never understand why you still long for the relationship, so you never tell them.

“Promise me that you will open up again, don’t let yourself close again. The world needs you in it,” Pierre said during the breakup, tears in his eyes.

“I may never open up the way I did for you,” your voice is shaky as you admit it. Pierre brought out the best in you. He noticed right away how reserved you were, and he promised you that he’d be a brave man so you could open up too. He was, and soon you believe you needed a brave man.

You step out into the pouring rain in Milan. The streets are familiar comfort. Your company booked a hotel painfully close to Pierre’s apartment. The sensation is similar to the one of your first fight. You wonder if Pierre thinks of it in the shower and misses it.

Your rain-soaked body standing in the streets as you quietly argued about something.

“Do you hate me?” you ask, tears mixed with the rain.

“God no, I could never. I’m sorry, mon amour, this fight is trivial,” Pierre pulls you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your lips in apology.

“I love you, Pierre,” you say for the first time. You silently wondered if the trivial argument was hazing for the cruel sorority of WAGs that you had to pledge. If it was, you’d do it every time to be with Pierre.

To this day, you still mean what you said in the rain. Even after six months, you still miss him. You miss him so much it makes you angry. The wondering about what he was doing and how he spoke of you to his friends made you want to set fire to this god forsaken city. Maybe you should hire a priest to exorcise whatever demon is living in you, even if you die screaming. You hope Pierre would hear about it, then maybe he would know how much you are hurting.

You shake out of your trance and walk back into your hotel, taking a warm shower and put on clean clothes.

“Come on, Y/n, we are going to a bar down the street,” your coworker knocks on your door. Alcohol. Alcohol would help you drown Pierre from your thoughts.

You approach the all too familiar bar and you want to dig your heels into the ground and not go in. Maybe you are being irrational, he’s probably racing this weekend. You weren’t wrong, except they are racing in Monza.

Your stomach flips as you hear the live band, it’s Thursday. You order your usual, saying hello to the person who was your favorite bartender, and sit in the booth with your coworkers, one that has a perfect view of the bar, and shitty lighting. You throw your drink back.

You walk back up to the bar, needing another shot. You can’t help but to look at the booth you used to haunt. Pierre is looking equally miserable as you. He looks like he wants to be anywhere but here and like he will be sick as a girl who is absolutely not his type sits in your spot.

“He hasn’t been the same since you left, never makes it past your song when he’s forced to bring a girl on a date. He leaves with his tail between his legs, like a puppy,” the bartender says, pouring you a gummy bear shot because you never were able to take a normal shot, noticing your longing eyes.

“I can’t believe he’s here, that I’m here,” you throw the shot back, ordering another drink to sip.

“He still gets up on reflex, I am starting to think he pictures you sitting across from him,” the bartender adds, and the band seems to notice you too. “Go for it, you two look equally miserable,” the bartender says as the first few notes are played by the band. You watch Pierre get up from the booth as you walk around the bar. His eyes are on his empty hand, not noticing you. You take his hand.

“Y/n?” The ghost of your name on his lips like a prayer. You still can’t believe he’s here.

“Pierre,” you smile softly, dancing with him to the music, everything right in the world for those couple minutes. The girl leaves your seat and the bar. You take your rightful spot across from Pierre and everything feels right again.

“What are you doing here? Last time I checked you were living in New Zealand,” Pierre asks, heart pounding.

“Work, sorry if this is weird, my coworkers chose the bar. We were sitting in a booth and it didn’t feel right sitting there,” you laugh a little.

“I’m so glad that you are here, I’ve missed you so much,” he grabs your hand, pressing a kiss to it.

“I’ve missed you too. You never turned off your location either,” you point out, his face flaming.

“What were we doing? I’ve been miserable without you,” Pierre admits.

“I don’t know, but I’ve been miserable too,” you tell him, the band’s music in the background taking you back to when you and Pierre were together.

“Are you busy this weekend?”

“Why?”

“I have an extra paddock pass, it would mean the world to me for you to watch from the garage,” all you can do is nod.

“I should get back to my coworkers,” you sigh.

“Even though you’d rather stay with me?” Pierre reads your mind, you nod in confirmation. “I’ll join you,” Pierre grabs his front and follows you to the large booth that isn’t right because it isn’t yours. Pierre sits beside you, an arm around your waist.

“I’ll walk you back to your hotel,” Pierre says, kissing the side of your head. You were ready to leave but your coworkers wanted to stay.

“Thanks, Pierrot,” his heart flutters at the nickname. He follows you to your hotel, a block from his apartment.

“Want me to pick you up on my way to the track?” Pierre asks, leaning against the wall beside your hotel room.

“I’ll have meetings during free practice one, I can find my way there for free practice two,” you say, making no move to go inside your room.

“I’ll leave the pass for you at the front desk, then maybe we can get dinner at that little restaurant you like after?” Pierre asks and you nod.

“Pierre, what are we doing?” you ask, looking at him.

“I don’t know, but I do know that I’d like to try again. I’ve been happier the past few hours than I have been in months,” he admits.

“I’d like that too,” you agree. Pierre moves off the wall, his hands holding your head gently as he kisses you.

Yuki and Charles are happy to see you again, and on Sunday, Pierre finally has something to race for. He makes it into P8 and you are so proud.

Pierre spends the off week getting reacquainted with you when you aren’t working. You spend a couple nights in his apartment, happy to see nothing has changed.

“We are making this work this time,” Pierre says as he holds you close, dancing to your song at the bar, the night before you fly back to New Zealand.

“I’m glad you were here last week,” you rest your head on his shoulder as you sway.

“Old habits die screaming,” he says softly.

When you and Pierre get married, that band plays at your wedding reception, and your first dance is to your song.

[toxictigertonic]

Can the Toxic Family Trio go to Disneyland? 🥺

They're going to kill each other and we're all going to point and laugh.

COYLE

- Starting out strong, he is the reason they're going to be late to Disneyland. He wanted to be out of the facility at 8 am sharp and he woke up at 9.

- Was in charge of buying the lightning lane passes. Forgot. Franco was ready to kill him over it but Gooseberry remembered.

- He REFUSES to pay for more than one food item. He is not going broke for a sandwich just bc a fuckin mouse is selling it to him.

- There is a single exception to this rule, and it's pistachio cold brew. He'd buy 7 and drink them throughout the day. He cannot resist the pistachio.

- He's having fun on the rides but if you ask him about it he just gets grouchy as hell. God forbid this grown man have fun.

- He forced pusher to come along to push their little buggy with all their shit in it. Pusher is being paid in coke by Gooseberry for their help.

- His feet hurt like a bitch by the end but he won't say it, he just limps and moans and groans. He won't ask to sit down either bc he's a big strong man and "men don't need to sit down", whatever that means.

- If anybody even LOOKS at one of the gift shops he's throwing a fit. He doesn't care if it's their money to spend, you're not wasting money like that!!

- Just because he's the law doesn't mean he's not gonna break Disneyland rules. He's going to make someone break character, and he's going to get them in trouble for it.

MOTHER GOOSEBERRY

- Woke up bright and early and got everything together for the trip. Had no help from anybody. Eternally seething.

- Wants to take photos with every character, ESPECIALLY the princesses. She's imagining herself as one, pretty dress and all. She's no princess but she is a queen ❤️

- Giftshop enthusiast, wants to look at and touch everything. Will she actually buy anything? Not if she wants Futterman to stay quiet.

- Futterman would shout a curse word in the middle of a crowded area and Phyllis would tape his beak shut for the rest of the day.

- Futterman also refuses to pay the prices for food and drink. Eats a kids ice cream cone and makes the kid cry.

- Futterman would also HATE Donald Duck. Genuinely. Feels like he's the only fowl allowed around here. Would try to snap at whoever is in the Donald Duck outfit.

- Loves all the rides, but especially "It's a Small World". Phyllis is singing along while being periodically interrupted by Futterman screaming for mercy.

- Planned matching outfits for everyone to wear, including Futterman! Futterman does not willingly wear his mouse ears but superglue solves all problems.

- If Coyle and Franco act up too much, she spends the money on Mickey Mouse harness backpacks and puts those fuckers on leashes.

- Hidden Mickey finder right here, she will find them all and you will not have a chance to even look for them.

FRANCO

- Harasses the princesses. Phyllis is going to beat him senseless in a second if he doesn't behave. She spent too much time planning to get kicked out over him.

- Also harasses the mascots but more to the effect of trying to steal their heads. He's a damn menace.

- He got ice cream all over his shirt 10 minutes into being there. Pissed he spilled his milkshake. Coyle is talking mad shit to him about it too.

- Demands a balloon and a cute pair of mouse ears, throws the worst tantrum ever if he doesn't get either. Scream cries if he accidentally lets go of the balloon.

- Steals a child's balloon if he is not allowed to buy one. Would honestly steal just about anything he could get his hands on. Why pay when he can just take?

- Tried to cut in line and got dragged back by Coyle. Coyle might be a jackass but even he understands the importance of waiting your turn in line.

- Yet again, not allowed to have Lupara with him. Resorts to having his pacifier in his mouth the whole time for comfort. Please stop taking Lupara it makes him anxious.

- Speaking of his pacifier, Gooseberry was nice enough to buy him one with Mickey Mouse on it for the trip. It makes him feel special :)

- His feet got tired so he got into the cart that Pusher has been pushing around. Pusher hates him so much and has considered dumping him into a fountain more than once.

I have never been to Disneyland but I do have Google so I think I know what I'm talking about

[izvmimi]

cw: love as violence. body horror. yandere.

In another world, this would be romantic. 

A scheduled time, weekly, for your partner to hold you - for you to settle into the space between his legs, your back pressed to his chest and his hand gently rested on your belly.

In another world, the chin pressed against your shoulder is more comforting than it is now, the cheek pressed against yours reassuring, and the raspy, low voice doesn’t force a bone-deep chill down your spine. 

His hand would guide yours by the wrist with a loving grip, and you’d do something mundane and delightful such as painting. Light strokes would hit the canvas in pastel shades lit by sunlight, instead of blood dripping slowly and congealing on the ice cold floor in dark. You’d be listening to classical music or possibly pop, or rock or techno... anything, rather than have your eardrums pierced by the incessant pleading, turning later to incessant screams, partially muffled by a thick, blunted tongue, too big for a mouth now missing the majority of 32 teeth.

(You wonder if it hurts when they disintegrate down to the gum line, the broken crowns rattling until they eventually fall out.)

Shigaraki doesn’t give you anything more information or conversation during these moments, except orders, the tip of his chin pressed harshly into the soft of your shoulder, his forearm pressed tightly against your waist, forcing you in an iron grip close to him.

An embrace that feels just as much of a prison as the one that you sit in.

“Unravel it.”

Your hands shake but you obey because when you hesitate, when you show any type of emotion or resistance, he takes more pieces, and perhaps in some world, maybe taking more pieces would be a mercy. Perhaps, if the man who sits before you, quivering and unable to communicate his pain, the stumps where full limbs and fingers and toes once were, just disintegrated into nothing, this would not be such an awful, grueling process.

But something tells you, he would like to live still. You can see it in his eyes, cloudy from constant, unrelenting pain, swimming in tears. You wonder why Tomura allows him to keep both.

You swallow down a sob and take what remains of his left arm. 

Your ex-boyfriend is right handed. Something tells you if you preserve the right as long as you can, perhaps if one day he is free of this hell, he’ll thank you. 

Blood and pus seeps through the thick bandages and in another world, if you weren’t exhausted by adrenaline, you’d have thought of infection and how gross the direct contact to a constantly festering wound is, but all you can think of is how much this man must hate you, and how much it truly is your fault. 

You continue to unwrap carefully, your heart thumping in your chest. The man before you, in parts and pieces, doesn’t resist anymore even if he does still tremble, perhaps resigned to his fate, or perhaps simply missing the touch of a person who will not immediately make his body crumble. You delay this part and wonder if Tomura has recognized your small act of resistance, and you try to cry visibly, blinking back tears.

Shigaraki doesn’t care if he cries but he cares if you do.

The wafting smell is putrid, somehow even more so than when you came to this room, but you can barely smell it anymore. All you can sense is a metallic taste in your mouth, your saliva drying up like the desert.

You want to whisper ‘I’m sorry' but you can’t.

Tomura replaces your hand with his, all five fingers, and the screaming begins.

Your heart wrenches but it will continue and it’ll be worse if you cry, and it’s still worse when Tomura uses those same fingers (save for one) to grip the curve of your jaw and kiss you, jamming his tongue down your throat, telling you that he loves you and that he hates any man who has ever had the nerve to touch you before him.

It's how this ceremony ends, every time without fail.

And you wish in some twisted world that you were into this more, and that you were into this less, as your ex-lover loses more and more parts of himself and watches the man that is chipping at him peace by peace, making him rot and decay, act as though he is not a monster.

He hates that Tomura pretends that he’s capable of devoted and all encompassing love.

And the scariest part is that as he continues to fall apart, and you continue to come down here as a unit to destroy him.

He realizes through muddled thoughts and disembodied soul, that it is true.

Tomura Shigaraki perhaps does truly love you.